To Fix You
by Koinaka
Summary: When his father unexpectedly dies, Kurt is forced to move to Forks to live with the aunt he never knew he had. Once there, he finds himself thrown into the world of magic and monsters.
1. Chapter 1

I know, I know. Another crossover? This time with Twilight? Well, what can I say? I can't help it if I have way too many ideas. I blame summer and the fact that there aren't many Glee/Twilight crossovers out there!

Spoilers: Goes AU for Glee during Silly Love Songs, set during New Moon for Twilight.

Warnings: Slash, character death (obvious from the summary), and... that's it!

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

The folder sat untouched on top of his father's desk. Kurt slid one finger across the top of it. It hadn't been too long ago when his dad had insisted that they make these plans just in case.

"Look," his dad had said when Kurt protested. "I'm not sayin' it's going to happen any time soon or anything. I'm just saying that if it does—_if _it does," he repeated louder when Kurt tried to talk over him, "you'll be prepared."

And so they had gone through everything. Mortgage papers for both the house and the garage, life insurance policies, funeral arrangements, his will, and lastly guardianship papers.

"I have an aunt," Kurt had repeated weakly, looking at the paperwork. "Why haven't I ever met her?"

His dad had shuffled around before finally sighing. "Well, your grandparents and her didn't get along much. They didn't agree with her, ah, lifestyle choices, and she left home when she was still in high school. Your mom was just a kid then. They kept in touch when she got older, mostly by letters. She came out a few times after we got married, but I wasn't…" he sighed once more. "You have to understand that I wasn't as open-minded back then as I am now. I'm not proud of how I treated her, and I've tried to make amends for what I did but sometimes there's just too much hurt."

Kurt hadn't thought anything else about the funeral arrangements or his aunt after that afternoon. It had been too difficult to think about at the time, only weeks after his dad's first heart attack. Plus with things escalating at school with Karofsky and then his transfer to Dalton, it was no surprise that contacting his aunt had escaped his mind.

And yet, only five months later, there he was, staring at the folder. It was hard to believe that his entire world had fallen apart in only a matter of days. Just a handful of days ago, he had been planning the Lonely Hearts Club Dinner and thinking that nothing would ever hurt worse than thinking Blaine had liked him only to find out that he didn't. Now he knew better.

His friends, who had swarmed the hospital just earlier that day, were nowhere to be found. Not because they wanted to leave him alone—because they didn't, most emphatically didn't—but because he had refused to let them in. He had had enough sympathetic looks and words of encouragement for one day, and he wasn't sure he could take anymore. All he wanted to do was to call his aunt and then sleep.

Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously, ignoring them. If he started crying now, he wasn't sure that he would ever stop. He took a deep breath and flipped open the folder until he got to the sheet regarding the guardianship. He read both his aunt's name and number several times, committing it to memory before closing the folder. He pushed it away from him, not even wanting it within his reach. He dialed the number and counted to ten before putting the phone against his ear.

It rang three times before someone answered—a woman who sounded so much like his mom that Kurt's breath hitched in his chest. .

"_Hello?_" the woman repeated.

Kurt cleared his throat. "May I speak with Mildred—Mildred Cox?"

When the woman spoke again, her voice was guarded. "_You already are. Who's this?_"

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

There was a long pause, so long, in fact, that Kurt checked to see if the call had disconnected. He was about to just hang up and try again when he heard a _whoosh_ of air through the line. "_Call me Millie, will you? Mildred is some hundred and eight year old woman_."

"Millie," Kurt repeated obligingly.

"_Perfect. Now, then, not that it isn't absolutely wonderful to hear from you—because it is—but I assume you didn't call just to chat me up." _

Kurt shook his head even though he knew she couldn't see. "No. It—it's my dad," he said finally. "He's…" He couldn't make himself say the words. He took a deep breath and started again. "I know that we don't really know each other, but he chose you as my guardian. The attorney handling his estate should contact you soon, but I just—I didn't know what else to do—will you come?"

"_Yes, of course_."

Millie arrived in Lima the next morning looking every bit as much as his mother as she sounded only older. She took one look at Kurt and swept him into a hug. "I'm sorry," she murmured over and over again. Kurt had a feeling that she was apologizing for more than just his dad's death, but he didn't press the matter.

"Don't worry," she told him when they parted. "I'll take care of everything."

The week following Millie's arrival was a whirlwind of activity, most of which—like his dad's funeral—Kurt could scarcely remember. It was almost as if he wasn't there himself, as if he was outside of his body watching while it was happening, completely detached. He remembered tearful speeches, songs sung by his friends, and watching as they lowered his dad's casket into the ground, but everything else was just a blur. After the funeral, there were meetings with his dad's attorney, a real estate agent, and his headmaster at Dalton to be taken care of. Kurt sat through each of those with the same detached sense of indifference.

When they weren't in meetings, they were packing up the house. It was a completely arduous task that often left Kurt feeling either emotionally bereft or ultra-sensitive like a raw nerve. He knew, vaguely, that he should be more upset that he was leaving the only home he'd ever known, but he wasn't. The truth was that Kurt wanted to get as far away from Lima because he didn't think he could bear to be there without his dad, didn't think he could walk past the living room and see his dad's empty chair or open up the refrigerator and see his dad's favorite dark beer. He couldn't even bear to go through his dad's room. Instead, Millie packed all of it up for him to bring with them. Later, when he was able to think about his dad without his heart clenching painfully, he would go through the boxes, but for now that was all he could do.

His aunt was there throughout it all, filling in the silence with stories of his mom as a kid. Every so often she would talk about her home back in Washington State and about her partner Rebekah. They had been together for over fifteen years. Rebekah was from the nearby Quileute reservation where his aunt taught Biology at the local high school.

"I think you'll like it," she said, almost hesitantly, as they went through the kitchen boxing up what Kurt wanted to take and what they were going to give to a charity. It was the last room they had to do as they had already gone through the rest of the house.

Kurt said nothing at first. What could he say? He probably wouldn't like it, but what did that matter? "What's it like?" he asked instead. "The city where you live—Forks, right?"

Millie seemed to be searching for an apt description. "Rainy," she said after a few seconds. "And, yes, Forks. Well, actually, we live in La Push, but since you'll be attending school in Forks, you'll probably spend more of your time there than anywhere else." La Push was the name of the reservation, he remembered. She talked about La Push a lot and Forks not so much.

"Rainy," Kurt repeated.

"But beautiful," she quickly added. "I think you'll like it."

"Maybe," Kurt said, vaguely, staring at his dad's favorite coffee mug.

Dozens of memories bombarded him at once. He nearly dropped the mug as a surge of pain ripped through him. He took one deep breath and then another. Once he had his emotions carefully in check again, he continued packing, ignoring the sympathetic look his aunt was giving him. He didn't bother telling her that he doubted he would like Forks or La Push because he wasn't sure he could like anything anymore. It felt like his entire body was now encompassed in ice and no good emotion was able to penetrate the icy exterior.

In his pocket, his phone beeped once again indicating he had a new text message. He deleted it without even bothering to see who it was from. His aunt watched him with a frown on her face.

"Why don't you take a break and go see your friends? I know you'll want to say goodbye, and since we'll be busy tomorrow, this will probably be your only chance before we leave."

Kurt nodded even though seeing his friends was the furthest thing from his mind. He went into the living room for a bit of privacy. He sat there for several minutes before sighing and sending off a series of texts. It didn't take long before he had all of his friends agreeing to meet him at The Lima Bean.

When he got there, Rachel, Mercedes and Tina were already waiting for him along with Blaine. He gave them what he hoped passed for a smile and headed to the counter to order his drink. Just as he sat down the boys came straggling in. Everyone was much more subdued than usual—especially Finn. Even though their parents' relationship hadn't worked out, Burt had been the only father figure that Finn had ever really had, and he was obviously taking the loss hard. Kurt couldn't find it in him to care because he hadn't just lost a father figure; Kurt had lost his entire world.

Instead of sitting, Kurt stood awkwardly in front of the tables where his friends were gathered. Everyone was staring at him with identical expectant looks on their faces.

"I'm moving," he finally blurted out. "To Washington State."

There as a long moment of silence before everyone started talking at once, spouting off questions and protesting. Kurt sighed and sank down onto an empty chair next to Blaine. Blaine gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "So, Washington State, huh?"

"Yes," Kurt said with a nod.

It took a few minutes, but finally everyone called down enough to hold actual conversations. Saying goodbye to the only friends he had ever had was surprisingly hard, but he was glad that his aunt had pushed him to do it. He would have regretted it had he not.

Afterward Blaine walked Kurt back to his Navigator. They stopped in front of the driver's side door. Blaine, looking decidedly ill, opened his mouth several times to say something but then closed it at the last minute.

Finally he cursed beneath his breath and took another step closer to Kurt. Before he had time to react, Blaine had pressed his lips to Kurt's. Kurt hesitated before returning the kiss, allowing him to deepen it a moment later. When they parted, Blaine's face was flushed, and Kurt's was stricken. Neither said anything for a long time as their breathing calmed.

"Why?" Kurt asked, breaking the charged silence. Why _now _when he was just days from leaving Lima forever had Blaine decided to kiss him? Why _now _when Kurt wasn't even able to enjoy it properly because nothing—not even a kiss from the boy he thought he was in love with—could penetrate the icy barrier that surrounded him?

"I just…I've wanted to kiss you for so long, and until two weeks ago, I didn't even know it was an option. I know that this was the worst possible time to do that, but I couldn't let you leave without kissing you at least once."

Silence settled between them once again.

It was Blaine who broke it this time, his voice sounding slightly strangled. "I should go. Goodbye Kurt."

Kurt said nothing. He just watched as Blaine walked to his car and drove away, never moving. It wasn't until taillights of his car had disappeared that Kurt climbed into his car and drove back to his nearly empty house.

The next day was just as busy as Millie had predicted. Kurt didn't mind a bit because being so busy meant that he didn't have to think about anything. It took nearly all day for them to finish loading the U-Haul truck out front and cleaning up the house, and when they were done, they were both so exhausted that sleep came easy and fast to them.

The next morning, Kurt woke up early and walked through the house, from bedroom to bedroom, absorbing everything he possibly could. This was the only home he had ever known, and yet it felt completely foreign to him now because empty, it was just a house. He stopped in the room that had once been his dad's. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell his dad's unique scent of motor oil and peppermint. Unbidden, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it off as he hurried out of the house to where his aunt was waiting for him in the U-Haul, stopping only to lock the door behind him.

It wasn't until Millie put the U-Haul into gear and pulled away from the house that Kurt finally began to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

So, not sure how I feel about this chapter. It feels a bit disjointed to me, but I think that's because of Kurt's state of mind during it. As far as the Twilight timeline goes, this chapter is set after Jacob transforms but before the scene where Bella gives Quil a ride.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

Kurt's first impression of his new town was that it was very, _very _green. Lima might not have been a huge booming metropolis by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly had no forests or much vegetation to speak of. Forks—or La Push, rather—was surrounded by forests. They were thick with trees and brush and, Kurt imagined, all sorts of animals. Not the sort of place that Kurt would choose for himself, but he only had to deal with it until he graduated high school which, seeing as he was a little more than halfway through his sophomore year, meant he only had to be there for two years and some change.

Millie, noticing the expression on his face, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "So, what do you think? Not exactly what you're used to, I know, but I think, if you give it a chance, this place might do you some good."

Kurt considered his words carefully. "It's very green," he finally settled on.

Millie chuckled and beamed at him. "That it is."

It was also gray with no trace of sunlight due to the layer of clouds that seemed to cover the entire sky. Still, after days spent inside a U-Haul van with a woman he barely knew, but who was also the spitting image of his mother, Kurt was relieved when they finally pulled into the driveway of the small house that was to be his new home. After unhooking his Navigator, they went inside the small house.

Rebekah met them at the front door, pulling first Millie and then Kurt in for a hug. Introductions went smoothly and before Kurt had even realized what had happened, he was left alone in the middle of his new bedroom. It was much smaller than his previous basement dwelling, but not quite as small as he had expected. The room itself was plain, but that wouldn't be the case when he was finished. He would have to alter his décor a bit to take into account his new diminished space—and he would definitely have to forgo his settee—but all, in all, he was quite pleased, or as pleased as he could be given the circumstances, with the room. His only worry was how he was possibly going to fit his entire wardrobe in his new closet.

"The closet in the office is empty," Millie, who was standing in the doorway watching him as he observed his new space, told him. "If you need more closet space."

"Am I that transparent?" he asked.

"A little," Millie replied with a chuckle as she settled herself down on the small twin bed in the corner of the room. "I hope you don't mind, but one of the neighborhood boys offered to help you unload the truck with the things you'll be keeping here. The other things we can take over to the storage unit tomorrow before we head over to Forks High to get you registered."

Kurt nodded. He didn't mind the help, but he was nervous about meeting new people. Not only that but he would be lying if he said he wasn'tmore than a little apprehensive about starting his new school. He knew, from experience, that teenagers could be cruel, and he could only hope that he wouldn't go through there what he had gone through at McKinley because there was no Dalton Academy for him to run to.

"Great!" Millie said, seemingly oblivious to Kurt's apprehension. "Because he's waiting in the living room. He's a really great kid, but he's going through a bit of a rough patch right now. I think the two of you will really get along."

Kurt didn't think he would, but since he didn't want to disappoint his aunt, so he just said nothing.

_Courage_, he thought as he needlessly adjusted first his pants and then his shirt before following his aunt through the small house and into the living room. The boy—and he used that term loosely because he was _huge_—was standing awkwardly beside Rebekah when they got there.

"Kurt, this is Quil Ateara. Quil, this is my nephew Kurt Hummel," Millie said as she molded to Rebekah's side.

"Hey," the boy muttered, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

"We'll leave you two alone," Millie said. "You're staying for dinner, aren't you, Quil?"

Quil shrugged. "Sure. Thanks, Ms. R."

After a few minutes of awkwardly standing in the living room with each boy avoiding the other one's eyes, Kurt finally sighed.

"You don't have to help me, if you don't want to," he told the other boy. "It's okay."

"I don't mind," Quil said, quickly, meeting Kurt's eyes for the first time. That was when Kurt noticed the look on his face. He looked like Kurt felt—bleak, foreboding, as if he would never be happy again. Something about his expression resonated within Kurt.

Instead of questioning him further—about why he looked so lost—Kurt just continued on. "We should get started, then. Each box is clearly labeled. We only have to worry about those labeled 'room' or 'clothes.' Plus the box labeled 'electronics.' The rest are going to be put into storage."

"Cool."

The two boys worked in silence for the first few minutes until Kurt caught Quil studying him. "That your car?" Quil asked, nodding to where Kurt's Navigator was parked.

"Yes."

Quil made an appreciative noise. "Swee-eet," he said, dragging the word out. "That's easily the nicest car on the rez. Bet you'll have to beat the girls off with a stick."

Kurt grimaced and flushed. He lowered his eyes to the box that he was currently holding. "I sincerely doubt that," he said, chewing on his lower lip for a second before looking back at Quil. "I'm gay."

There was a long pause before Quil finally shrugged. "'s cool."

And that, it seemed, was that because neither boy mentioned it for the rest of the afternoon. They managed to unpack the van in record time, making quick work of the boxes as well as the furniture Kurt had brought—his desk, his entertainment center, and his dressing table—mostly because Quil was much stronger than he looked. When Kurt had asked him what his secret was, Quil had just blushed and stammered something about working out. It was a tight fit getting all of his furniture in the room, but in the end, everything had fit.

Afterward, Quil sprawled across his bed going through Kurt's DVD and CD collection while Kurt began the huge undertaking that was unpacking his clothing. Conversation between the two flowed easily enough, which honestly surprised Kurt because before transferring to Dalton, Kurt had never really had any male friends. Even at Dalton, he hadn't had that many. The Warblers were great and everything, but when it came down to it, they were mostly Blaine's friends.

With Quil, though, Kurt felt a camaraderie of sorts which was kind of ridiculous because they'd only known each other for a handful of hours, and Kurt hadn't even talked much during that time. That was what he enjoyed so much. He didn't have to pretend to be happy; he didn't have to answer a million questions. He could just _be. _It didn't even matter that they had nearly nothing in common or that Quil's fashion sense was utterly deplorable—the boy was wearing tennis shoes without _socks, _for crying out loud! There was just something about Quil that reminded him of his friends back at McKinley—they were both outsiders. From what little he had gathered from Quil, his friends had abandoned him to hang out with the popular kids on the reservation. Kurt knew, first hand, what that was like. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable with Quil. Whatever the reason was, Kurt was glad. Or as glad as he could possibly be.

"You've got a lot of, uh, lotion," Quil commented as Kurt meticulously unpacked his toiletries and arranged them on his dressing table.

"Skincare is very important to me," he said. The words felt empty now. Skincare _used _to be ridiculously important to him. Now it was just something he did without even thinking about it, something he did to keep some sense of normalcy.

"I've got awful skin," the other boy confessed. "My mom bought me this face stuff, but it made me all itchy, so I stopped using it."

Kurt cocked his head to the side as he studied Quil's skin. "You can't put just anything on your face and expect results," he hesitated for a moment. "I could help you find something to clear your skin up, if you'd like."

Quil beamed. "Sweet! That would be awesome."

"On second thought…" Kurt said as he took in Quil's outfit of tattered jeans and a faded t-shirt. "Maybe I could do a little more than that. Please tell me that you aren't attached to those… _clothes_."

Quil flushed. "Not really," he muttered. "When Becky called and asked me to come over, I just grabbed whatever looked cleanest off the floor."

Kurt shuddered, feeling more like himself than he had in days. He wasn't back to normal, by any means. In fact, he wasn't sure that he could _ever _be back to normal, that he could ever be happy again, but maybe—_maybe_—he could be something more than what he had been since his father's death.

"That definitely won't do," he said.

Quil looked like he wanted nothing more than to say yes, but still he hesitated. When he spoke again, it was more of a mutter than anything else, and his face was colored with embarrassment. "I, uh, don't really have much money," he told Kurt. "So…"

Kurt cut him off. "Don't worry about that."

The other boy exhaled slowly before finally nodding. "Okay, just don't get too carried away. I've seen some of the stuff you've got, and there's no way I could pull anything like that off."

"There are few who can," Kurt conceded. "Now, then, I was thinking…"

The two boys stayed ensconced within his bedroom for the rest of the night, only leaving for Kurt's new sanctuary for dinner. By the time Quil went home, he had a bag full of facial products, a new friend, and a plan to make the trek to the nearest city with a decent mall over the upcoming weekend.

Forks High School, which at first glance looked like a small collection of brick houses practically covered by bushes and trees, looked nothing like any school he'd ever seen. Even McKinley looked more like a school that Forks High School, and after the grandiose grounds of Dalton Academy for Young Men, it certainly left much to be desired.

The appearance of Forks High wasn't the only thing that left much to be desired. It took over an hour to get him registered for classes since, although he was technically a sophomore, Dalton's curriculum was much more advanced than the curriculum at Forks.

The obviously overworked guidance counselor kept muttering, "What to do, what to do," beneath her breath as she flicked back and forth in their school's course catalog.

That, in and of itself, should have been an indicator of the quality of education Kurt could expect there since even McKinley relied almost exclusively on computers. In the end, Kurt ended up with a schedule that he was less than pleased about, but was probably better than he could expect given the circumstances and the lateness of his transfer.

When they were finished at the high school, they headed over to U-Store, the only public storage unit in Forks. Putting his father's belongings into storage left Kurt once again feeling emotionally bereft, and he caught Millie eyeing him worriedly on several occasions as if she expected him to fall apart at any minute while the two of them went through the process of moving the boxes from the U-Haul to the unit.

But Kurt did not fall apart. He hadn't cried since the day they'd left Lima, and he had no plans to do so if he could help it. There had been times on the road that he'd wanted to fall apart—when they crossed the Ohio state line, for example, because his dad, in all of his forty years, had never once stepped foot outside of Ohio, and now he would never be able to —but he hadn't. He had just stared straight ahead, not trusting himself to look back at Ohio.

The entire afternoon, his aunt had kept up an endless stream of conversation which, mostly, consisted of her telling Kurt all about life on the reservation, but it wasn't until he heard the words beach that he really paid any attention.

"La Push has a beach?" he asked, his voice eager in spite of himself. Kurt had never been to the beach before in his life, and while he didn't care for sun bathing, it wasn't as if there wasn't much sun to be had in La Push anyway.

Millie nodded. "Oh, yeah. La Push is famous for its beaches. They're really lovely. You should go. I bet Quil wouldn't mind showing you around."

Quil definitely hadn't minded. In fact, his entire face, which had had the same forlorn expression as the day before, brightened up considerably when Kurt brought up the beaches. "First Beach is great," he enthused. "They all are, really, but First is my favorite."

"I've never been to the beach," Kurt confessed as he picked at the quilt covering his new twin-sized bed. He needed new bedding immediately. The bedding from before wouldn't work since his old bed was a double. He mentally added that to his ever growing shopping list.

"It'll have to be tomorrow after school though," Quil said wistfully. "I have way too much homework to do tonight, but I'll meet you here tomorrow when I get out of school. Is that okay?"

Kurt nodded, relieved that he would have that to look forward to even if his first day at school turned out to be a total disaster. He paused briefly to gage Quil's reaction. "I start school tomorrow. The drive from Forks to La Push isn't too long, but you'll probably be home way before I am."

But Quil just waved him off. "It's cool. I'll keep an eye out for you."

And that was that. If Kurt had told one of his friends from New Directions, that tomorrow was his first day at a new school, he would have had to spend the rest of the night dissecting it. Mercedes would want to know what he was going to wear while Rachel would want to know if Forks High had a glee club, which he sincerely doubted, and Blaine...Blaine would tell him not to be nervous or perhaps ask him if he was nervous.

Even without telling his friends about his imminent start at a new school, he had a phone full of texts asking him those very things. His fingers ached to respond to them, even if he did feel more than a little suffocated by their concern for him, but he didn't. He _couldn't_. Not without thinking about Lima which then, in turn, made him think about his dad. So instead of responding, he just deleted the messages and turned off his phone.

After painstakingly choosing his outfit for the next day, Kurt went to bed early in preparation for his first day of school. He didn't fall asleep right away, however. In fact, it was a long time before he was able to fall asleep, the sound of rain falling against his windows and the distant howling of wolves keeping him awake.

Instead he spent most of the night staring outside of his window at the cascading rain. Once he even thought he saw what looked to be not one but two huge wolves in the woods outside his window, but the next second they were gone, so he just assumed it had been a trick of the light.

Before finally falling asleep, he resolved to ask his aunt about it in the morning even though he was pretty sure that he had imagined the entire thing. After all, there was no way a wolf could be that big, was there?


	3. Chapter 3

I want to apologize for the length of time between the updates! Grad school is killing me. Hopefully the next update will be much faster. Fall break is coming up, so I'm hoping to get some writing done then. Anyway, enjoy!

Also this isn't betaed, but I've read through it several times for mistakes. If you catch some, please forgive me.

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

Chapter Three

Kurt's expectations for his time at Forks High School were alarmingly low because at least, then, he wasn't likely to be disappointed.

Or so he thought.

By lunchtime, Kurt had been proven wrong.

At least at McKinley they'd had the glee club, but there wasn't a glee club at Forks High School. In fact, there didn't seem to be many clubs at all. At least no clubs that Kurt had any interest in. It wasn't just the alarming lack of extracurricular activities—at this point, he wasn't even sure he would have been able to muster the effort to participate in anything extra—it was everything. Kurt hated everything about Forks High School—the insipid, gossipy girls, the jeering jocks, and the subpar teachers. He hated it all. He hadn't thought it was possible for a school to be worse than McKinley High, but he had been sorely mistaken.

He wasn't even sure _why _he hated it, really. It wasn't like anyone was outwardly hostile to him. No one called him any derogatory names or threw frozen beverages at him. In fact, no one said anything to him—at all. Oh, they talked about him, of course, a never ending stream of whispered conversations that ended the moment Kurt entered a room, but no one ever spoke directly to him. Probably because of the do-not-approach-upon-pain-of-death vibes that he was sending out, but it still didn't change the fact that no one ever approached him though Kurt could feel their eyes on him wherever he went, hear their hushed and aborted conversations.

"_I heard he's living out on the reservation." _

_"I heard his aunt's rich. He looks rich, too. You see the car he was driving? And his clothes? I saw that jacket in Vogue back in November or December."_

_"So what if she's rich, I heard she's a lesbian." _

_"Must run in the family. No way is _he _straight. Did you hear how high his voice is? Sounds like a _girl."

_"Looks like one, too."_

On and on it went—the gossip and speculation about both Kurt and Millie.

The only thing that made the day even slightly bearable was the knowledge that soon he would be seeing Quil and that the two of them were going to the beach. That and the fact that maybe Quil would be able to tell him something about the wolves he was certain he'd seen the night before.

He'd asked Millie that morning as planned, but she had brushed away his concerns.

"You were probably dreaming," she'd told him after a moment, but her lips were set into a harsh line, and her eyes looked troubled.

"Maybe," had been Kurt's skeptical reply.

He'd wanted to insist that he most certainly had not been asleep, but there had been a small part of him that had thought, at least the previous night, that maybe he had imagined the entire thing, but his aunt's behavior had been too strange after mentioning it. Kurt was fairly good at reading people, surviving McKinley High had depended upon it, and he felt sure that she _was _hiding something because she had sidestepped all further questioning until she'd finally snapped at him to just leave well enough alone. She'd then left for work before he could say another word leaving him alone in the strange house that was his new home.

But the more Kurt thought about it, the more convinced he became that he had not been sleeping. He could still see, clearly, the much too large wolves in his head. Their fur, one a strange russet color and the other gray, was drenched with water, but it had been their eyes that Kurt couldn't get out of his head. Their eyes had held such intelligence because the moment they noticed Kurt at the window, they had exchanged a look before disappearing back into the trees.

He wasn't even sure why he cared so much about these wolves, these wolves that were several times larger than they should have been, but he couldn't stop thinking about them. Wondering why they had been outside of his bedroom almost as if they had been watching over him. Wondering why, if there had truly been no wolves, that his aunt had been so defensive.

When Kurt pulled into his aunt's driveway, Quil was having what appeared to be a heated conversation with a ridiculously tall—taller than _Finn_, and that was saying something—boy. The boy, flanked by two others, was halfway down the street by the time Kurt was able to extract himself from the Navigator. He watched as the three boys went into the forest that surrounded the reservation.

"Friends of yours?" Kurt asked lightly when he'd reached Quil, taking in the dark look on his new friend's face.

Quil laughed bitterly. "Not anymore."

"They don't know what they're missing." Kurt hesitated before reaching out and laying a hand on Quil's arm only to almost wrench it back immediately because of the heat that seemed to radiate from Quil.

Quil tensed briefly at the contact but after a moment he relaxed. "Yeah," he agreed, but there was a sense of longing in his voice and on his face. His eyes flitted to the patch of trees the boys had entered only moments before and then, reluctantly, back to Kurt.

"So, beach?" Kurt asked, pulling his hand back. Discretely, he touched his hand to his face, relishing, for a moment, in the heat. For too long, it seemed, he had felt frozen. Even now, despite the relative mildness of the day, he was wrapped in layers.

A small grin appeared on Quil's face at the mention of the beach. He nodded. "Lemme just go tell my mom I'm leaving."

Kurt kept his gaze fixed on the front of Quil's house after watching his friend duck into the house. He tensed as, in his pocket, his cell phone vibrated once, twice, three, four times indicating a new call. He breathed out a sigh of relief as it stopped only to tense once again as it began to vibrate once more. Hesitantly, he pulled the cell phone out.

It was Finn. Finn, who had almost been his brother, who had been the first boy that Kurt had ever had romantic feelings for. Finn, who had been almost as devastated as he had been at his father's funeral. Suppressing the swell of unwelcome feelings that flooded his chest at merely seeing Finn's name on his cell phone, Kurt rejected the call before turning off the phone once more. He was just slipping it into his pocket as Quill approached him.

"You okay?" the other boy asked.

Kurt took in a shaky breath and nodded. Quil's expression was disbelieving, but he didn't press the matter.

"Come on," Quil urged, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him back towards the Navigator.

The warmth of Quil's hand seemed to spread throughout Kurt's body, and for the first time since his father's death, he felt a smile, albeit a very tentative smile, come to his face as he climbed into his car.

First Beach was not like the sunny, sandy beaches Kurt had always envisioned. It was sandy, yes, but across the sand was a layer of rocks and pieces of driftwood. There was also no sign of the sun. This was true of La Push and Forks as well, but the effect was different on the beach with the dark waves crashing on the shore. It gave the entire beach a desolate, gloomy feel.

Kurt loved it.

The two boys walked the length of the beach silently.

"It's better during the summer," Quil said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Or, y'know, anytime when the sun actually comes out."

Kurt raised one eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that the sun actually _does _venture out from between the clouds?"

Quil let out a barking laugh. "Not often," he admitted, grinning widely. "But sometimes, yeah."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it."

"Wanna see something really cool?" Quil asked as they began to walk back the way they'd come.

"Always," Kurt replied.

Quil lead him over to where there was a circle of driftwood logs surround a small fire pit. Not wanting to get his pants damp, Kurt stood near the circle for a minute before, gingerly, sitting on the edge of the log.

Grinning, Quil dug through a nearby pile of damp wood until he found one that was relatively dry. He pulled a lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. When he lit the piece of wood, it burned blue instead of the usual orange. Kurt's eyes widened.

"Cool, huh?"

Kurt just nodded.

Quil dropped the flaming wood down into the fire pit only for it to begin to smolder due to the dampness. He sighed. "Too wet, I guess. That's why it's so empty out here. Normally it's packed."

Kurt had a hard time imagining _any place _in Forks or La Push being packed.

Quil picked up on his disbelief at once. "First Beach is the only beach accessible by vehicle," he explained. "So a lot of kids from Forks like to come out here and, y'know, hang out and stuff."

Kurt hummed and allowed his eyes to sweep the forest line, looking for any sign of wildlife within the trees, but finding nothing. He could hear the twittering of birds and some other, unrecognizable noises, but there was no indication—other than his own memory—that there were wolves within the forest. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Quil. He took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on his mind all day.

"Do you know if there are any wolves near La Push?"

Quil shrugged. "Sure there are. You can hear 'em sometimes. Howling and stuff."

"What kind of wolves?" Kurt pressed on. Surely if Quil knew of any… super wolves, for want of a better term, he would have said.

Again, Quil shrugged. "I dunno. Normal ones, I guess. I've never really seen one, but I know they're out there. Why?"

Kurt hesitated. "I thought I saw two wolves last night."

"What were you doing in the woods at night?" Quil asked, a surprised look flitting across his face.

"I wasn't in the woods. I was in my room. They were just outside my bedroom window, near the tree line." He paused before adding. "They didn't look like normal wolves. They were much larger than they should have been."

"Huh," Quil said, his brow furrowed. "How big?"

Kurt considered the question for a moment. "They were easily as tall as a horse though one was much larger than the other."

Quil's eyes widened comically. "Whoa," he said. "I've never heard of any horse-sized wolves out in the woods, but I guess there could be."

Another silence fell over the two boys.

"Sorry I couldn't be more helpful," Quil said after a few minutes. "I'd ask my grandpa, but he's been acting so weird lately. He keeps asking me all of these crazy questions and watching me when he thinks I'm not looking."

"Don't worry about it. Maybe I did imagine them like Aunt Millie thinks," Kurt lied.

"Wait a minute, I think I _have _seen a wolf like you're describing. Well, a picture of one, anyway. More like a drawing, really, but still." He continued at Kurt's hopeful expression. "You see, _supposedly_ we descended from wolves. That's what my grandpa says anyway, and he's been a tribal elder for as long as I can remember. When I was little, he used to tell me all of these crazy stories about it. How we descended from them and should consider them our brothers. Stuff like that. There are loads of drawings of us with wolves, but the wolves never look like normal wolves. I never noticed when I was younger, but they were always really huge. Dunno why, though," he finished with a shrug.

They stayed on the beach until it inevitably started to rain. Then, the two boys ran across the beach to the safety and warmth of the Navigator. Flushed and breathing heavily, they sat in the car for another half an hour before driving the short distance back home.

"We should do that again," Kurt said as he pulled into his driveway. "But next time, you'll have to take me to one of the other ones."

Quil's smile was fast and bright. "Definitely."


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, sorry for the length of time in between updates! However, I am working on a paper on the _Twilight _series, and inspiration hit last night. Hopefully, there won't be a huge weight for the next chapter as the semester is almost over. Hope you enjoy this! Not quite how I expected Jacob and Kurt to meet, but well, this is how it came about. There will be more interaction in the future, I promise!

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

It wasn't too long before Kurt and Quil became inseparable. If he could have managed it, it was likely that Quil would have spent his every waking moment with Kurt at his aunt's house. Not that they spent much time in the house because Kurt still felt uncomfortable there. Millie and Rebekah had gone above and beyond to make him feel at home, but Kurt knew that it would never feel that way—that it could _not _ever feel that way. His home was with his dad, and now that his dad was gone...

But Kurt tried very hard not to think about things like that. Thoughts about _before_, about Lima, and his life there were forbidden.

And yet it seemed that, as the days went on, he found himself lingering on those forbidden thoughts more and more. He found himself comparing Quil to his other friends, to Finn more often than not.

Quil waved his hand in front of Kurt's face. "Hello? Earth to Kurt, y'there?"

Kurt shook his head, dissipating his thoughts before nodding. "Yes, of course."

Quil gave Kurt a speculative look, but after a moment shrugged and grinned. "So, what do you say about going to see the tide pools tomorrow? It's a bit of a hike, but…" He shrugged again.

"I think," Kurt said, slowly, pushing himself to his feet, "we should go now. Why wait until tomorrow?"

The two had been sitting inside La Push's only restaurant—a dingy little diner—for the better part of an hour while Quil had put away more food than should be humanly possible. A boring afternoon of tedious homework followed by an awkward night of conversation with his aunt was all that Kurt had to look forward to. Going to the tide pools—not that Kurt knew what those were exactly—was definitely better than the alternative.

"I dunno," Quil said, stuffing the last fry on his plate into his mouth. "I've got some homework to do—"

Kurt cut him off. "Leave that to me. I'll help you."

Quil shrugged. "Sounds good to me.

Kurt was nearly finished with his hot chocolate when the door to the diner opened and three rather large boys—the same boys that Kurt had seen Quil talking to the week before—entered. Quil's expression darkened as the boys strolled through the diner and seated themselves at the booth across from them.

"I'm gonna go pay," Quil muttered. Before Kurt could stop him, he was pushing himself out of his chair and stalking to the cash register.

Kurt turned his attention to the table of boys only to find one of them watching him. No, more than watching him, the boy's gaze was fixed on Kurt intently. Kurt stared back, wide-eyed, unable to break the gaze for several long seconds. It was only when Quil returned to the table that Kurt was able to tear his eyes away.

"What was that about?" Quil asked as they climbed into the Navigator.

"What was what about?"

"Jacob….he was staring at you," Quil paused. "You were staring at each other."

Now it was Kurt who shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

It was true. He didn't know why the boy—Jacob—had stared at him nor why he had stared back. He flushed as he remembered the heat of the stare but quickly put the boy—and the stare—out of his mind.

Though the hike to the tidal pools was short just like Quil had assured him, it required them to travel through a portion of the forest which made Kurt incredibly uneasy. It didn't help that it began to drizzle when they were, according to Quil's estimation, about half-way through the forest portion of the hike. The sound of the rain was cushioned considerably by the layers of greenery that seemed to be everywhere in the woods. Though it was not yet springtime, officially, the entire forest was brimming with new growth.

Kurt let out a gasp when they finally emerged from the trees.

"Cool, huh?" Quil said after a moment.

Kurt nodded dumbly. He followed Quil around as he pointed out the different tidal pools and the marine life each contained. Kurt had never been a huge fan of the outdoors, but he could definitely see the draw in a place like this.

Kurt and Quil settled onto adjacent rocks and watched as bright colored fish swan leisurely past in a nearby tidal pool. With the exception of a school trip to the zoo as a child, Kurt had never seen anything even remotely similar. He was fascinated—utterly transfixed by the lively movements of the fish, by their interaction with one another, by everything that he saw. He had never been one for the outdoors, but now he could definitely see what the appeal was.

They sat there together for a long time not caring that the rain drizzling was slowly drenching them. Quil chattered happily about their upcoming plans for the weekend and Spring Break which was quickly approaching. He planned on showing Kurt the other two beaches as well as the little enclave where his old tree house was. He had also been attempting to persuade Kurt to go cliff diving but to no avail as Kurt was deathly afraid of heights. All in all it was a peaceful afternoon.

Once or twice, however, Kurt's attention was drawn to a rustling in a thicket of trees near where they were sitting. He was sure that someone was there watching them, but he was never able to catch them.

"I don't see anything. Must have been an animal or something," Quil said the second time Kurt pointed it out to him. "It _is _the forest, y'know."

Kurt's lips pulled into a small frown. "Yes, maybe," he allowed.

"Let's head back," Quil suggested a few minutes later when his stomach let out a loud rumble. "I'm starved, and Rebekah promised us meatloaf for dinner, remember?"

Kurt gave his friend an incredulous look. "How can be hungry again?" he asked. "And where do you put it all? You practically ate an entire cow at the diner this afternoon!"

Quil patted his flat stomach. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy! And Rebekah is the best cook, I know!"

They spent the rest of the evening doing homework and cementing their plans for the weekend.

Thoughts of their upcoming plans to head to Seattle for some much needed shopping followed by a week of no school was the only thing that kept Kurt sane through the next day at school. He lived for the time he spent with Quil because it was the only time he felt remotely human.

Quil was waiting for him when he got home like he was most days, but unlike most days, there was a prominent frown on his face.

"Bad news," he told Kurt before he'd even gotten out of the Navigator. "I can't go with you to Seattle. My mom needs my help at the shop tomorrow. I tried to get out of it, but… well, you know how parents can be."

Thinking of all of the days he had spent helping his dad at the tire shop, Kurt nodded.

"We can go another day," Quil promised. "We'll have plenty of free time over Spring Break."

It was still dark when Kurt woke up on Saturday morning. Faced with spending an entire day in the company of Millie and Rebekah, he showered and dressed quickly. He wasn't sure what he was going to do for an entire day in the tiny reservation, but he knew that he couldn't just sit around the house all day. He penned a note to Millie before leaving.

He drove around for half an hour or so before he ended up at First Beach. He was surprised to find that he was not the only one at the beach despite the early hour. Parked across from him was a red truck —a very _old_ red truck. A quick scan of the beach, however, revealed that he was very much alone however.

Shrugging, Kurt got out of the Navigator and made his way down the deserted beach. He was just about to sit down on the same piece of driftwood he had sat on with Quil during his first visit to the beach when two figures emerged from the clearing on the far side of the beach. One of the figures was Jacob, the strange boy from the diner that had looked at him so intently, and the other was a small, pale, girl who looked vaguely familiar. They seemed to be heading in the direction of the parking lot but turned abruptly and walked in his direction.

It didn't take long for the boy to reach Kurt but the girl, on the other hand, lagged behind looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Kurt asked coolly after a moment or two had passed—moments in which the boy had done nothing but just stare at Kurt with the same heated look as before.

"I was just—you're Kurt, right?" the boy stammered, flushing slightly.

Kurt just raised a sculpted brow as if to say _obviously_. Even though they'd never met before, it wasn't unbelievable for the boy—Jacob, his mind corrected—to know his name. As the newcomer in a ridiculously tiny community, everyone seemed to know his name already.

"I'm Jacob," the boy continued. "I just wanted to say hello."

"I know who you are," Kurt said, his voice as icy as ever. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

A hurt look flitted across Jacob's face before it was replaced by one of determination. "Sure, sure," he said. "I'll just—I'll just see you around, then."

Kurt didn't think anything else about the encounter. He spent the morning wandering the beach only heading back to the Navigator when he was half frozen.

The next two days passed in much the same way as Quil's mother seemed determined to keep the two separated by enlisting Quil to spend long hours working in the small convenience store she ran. Quil assured him it wasn't intentional, but Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that it was. Though Quil's mother and grandfather had been nothing but polite to him, Kurt always got the impression that they didn't exactly approve of their friendship.

"You're crazy," Quil told him after the third day of being forced into working at the store. "My mom likes you. It's just—something weird is going on on the reservation. I overheard my grandfather talking to Billy Black last night, saying something about The Tribe being in danger."

"Danger?" Kurt said with a slightly bemused look on his face. "What sort of_ danger_? This has to be the most boring city on the face of the earth."

Quil shrugged. "Dunno, but that's just what Billy said. There's gotta be something to it, though, because my mom made me swear to stay away from the beach."

"The _beach_?" Kurt said, incredulously. "I've been at the beach every day this week, and I haven't seen another person at all." Except for the first day, he mentally added, but he didn't want to bring up the fact that Jacob, who had once been Quil's best friend, had attempted to make conversation with Kurt.

"I know, I know," Quil sighed. "Can we talk about something else, please? Something that doesn't involve The Tribe."

Kurt raised a brow at Quil's antics. He made the tribe seem like some sort of nefarious group instead of his family.

Quil sighed again. "Sorry, it's just…my mom been giving me the strangest looks for days. And," he paused for a moment before continuing. "Something I heard my grandfather say to Billy freaked me out a little."

"Well, what did he say?" Kurt asked when Quil fell silent.

His friend hesitated. "He said…he said that it was just a matter of time before I joined the pack."

"The pack? What sort of pack?"

Quil shrugged. "Dunno."

Kurt put on a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes in an attempt to cheer up his friend. "How about we head over to my house and watch a DVD? Rebekah said something about baking cookies before I left, and if I know her, she made enough to feed a small army."

At the word cookies, Quil seemed to perk up. "Fine, but I get to pick the DVD. You have awful taste."

Kurt let out a put-upon sigh. "As if your taste is any better."

"Hey!" Quil exclaimed in mock outrage. "_The Godfather _is a classic."

"So is _The Sound of Music_."

The two friends continued bickering as they crossed the street separating Quil's house from Kurt's never noticing the pair of eyes following their every movement.


	5. Chapter 5

Another update so soon! Feel very lucky! :D Now, I've had some questions, so I feel the need to clarify. This story is set in book verse. I like both the movies and the books, but I prefer the book verse, so that's what I've used. If you've only seen the movies, you shouldn't be too confused. Now, with that in mind, this chapter takes place during chapter fifteen in New Moon. I've tried as best I could to make this as seamless as possible, so just imagine the events of that chapter happening along with these.

Also, I know that imprinting is a bit of a fanon nightmare, but I am going with what I've been able to discern from both Eclipse and Breaking Dawn. It might not be exactly the same, but I hope I've been able to do it justice.

Please forgive any typos and/or I've tried to comb through it, but my brain is a bit fuddled thanks to school work!

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

__Chapter Five

As Spring Break progressed, the atmosphere on the reservation became tenser for some strange reason that Kurt could not discern—not only the atmosphere on the reservation but in his aunt's house as well. So tense, in fact, that Kurt could scarcely stand to stay in the house for longer than strictly necessary. Because of that, he took to wandering the beaches and surrounding forest with Quil when he was available and alone when he was not. His wandering had no real aim, only a constant urge to _move_, to not _think_ if possible. His mind was not a good place to be at the moment, so he wandered by day and dreamt of wolves at night which was fitting, perhaps, since he had fallen asleep the last several nights to the distance howling of wolves.

Wolves were not the only things that haunted his dreams—he also saw the heated gaze of Jacob Black whenever he closed his eyes and sometimes even when he was awake. It was strange because he honestly did not like the boy for no other reason than the fact that Quil had been so hurt by Jacob's abandonment. This dislike did not change the fact that he could not get the boy out of his head. He went over every conversation—and there hadn't been many—that he and Quil had had about his old friends. He went over every time he had seen the boy—the time he had witnessed him talking to Quil, the afternoon in the diner, and then the brief encounter at the beach—over and over again in his head.

It was all so confusing.

_Why_ could he not stop thinking about Jacob Black? _Why_? He didn't even know him—and what little he did know, he certainly didn't _like._

It wasn't only at night that he felt haunted. While wandering around on First Beach—and sometimes on Second Beach as well—he often felt as if someone was watching him. He never saw anyone watching him. He never even saw another person on the beach except the pale girl that had been with Jacob the other day, and she did her utmost to avoid Kurt at all costs it seemed, though he had never even attempted to approach her. Still, he had the uncanny suspicion that someone _was _watching him, and it left him feeling unsettled.

"Tell me about the legends," Kurt asked Quil on Wednesday.

They were ensconced in the small tree house that Quil and Jacob had built as children, Quil's too large body sprawled carelessly across the majority of the small interior. Wind whipped around the trees outside, but there was no chill in the tree house thanks to the heat that Quil always seemed to radiate. Sometimes Kurt thought he may just be warm enough to melt the ice the seemed to cover him at all times.

"Huh?" Quil asked drowsily.

He had been dozing off and on since consuming half a dozen hummus and cucumber sandwiches while Kurt alternated between gazing out one of the fairly rudimentary windows into the woods and flipping lazily through a copy of _Vogue_. Quil had been enthusiastic when Kurt told him he would bring lunch for them, a picnic of sorts, until he saw the sandwiches themselves. Quil had been more than skeptical about trying hummus—"_Gross!_" had been his assessment when he first saw the sandwiches—but now he couldn't get enough of them.

"You said before that there were tribal legends about how your people descended from wolves."

"Yeah, that's what they say anyway."

"Who're they?"

Never moving from his position on the floor, Quil shrugged his shoulders. "My grandfather, mostly, but the other tribal elders, too."

"But you know them, too, right? The legends? You said that your grandfather used to tell them to you when you were a kid, but do you remember all of them?"

"'Course I do," Quil spluttered, sounding thoroughly insulted. "I'll be a tribal elder, too, when I'm old enough, so I have to remember them."

"Will you tell them to me?"

Almost reluctantly, Quil pulled himself into a sitting position. His brow was furrowed, and there was an uncomfortable look on his face. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. "I…" he started before falling silent again. He ran a hand through his shorn hair. "I can't."

"You can't?" Kurt asked, a cajoling note to his voice.

"I'm not supposed to," Quil clarified.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "And why not?" he asked, barely concealing his curiosity.

Quil pursed his lips and exhaled loudly. "There's supposedly a 'treaty'," he said finally, using air quotations and looking thoroughly embarrassed to have admitted such a ridiculous thing.

"A treaty?" Kurt echoed, trying to mask his amusement but failing miserably. "Like an actual _treaty_?"

Quil glared at him. "Yeah, I guess."

"A treaty with _whom_?" Kurt asked before Quil could continue.

He hesitated and heaved a sigh. "A treaty with a group of cold ones."

No sooner had Kurt opened his mouth to ask exactly who the cold ones were did Quil shoot him a quelling look. His eyes darted to and fro outside the window into the neighboring woods. "_Did you hear that_?" he hissed.

Kurt leaned over his friend so that he could peer out of the window as well. "Hear what?" he said when he could see no discernible difference.

Quil settled back down onto the floor, shaking his head as he did so. "Musta been the wind," he muttered, but the next time he spoke, he had lowered his voice substantially. "Cold ones are what you pale faces would call vampires."

Kurt's eyes grew wide, and he couldn't help the strangled laugh that escaped. "_Vampires_?" he said, a bit breathless. "Are you telling me that you believe in _vampires?_

Quil's look turned defensive for a moment before he rolled his eyes. "I think it's just a load of crap…" he trailed off, waving his hands wildly. "A bunch of superstitious crap, but my grandfather…well, he swears it's true, and so does Billy—that's Jacob's dad, I think I've told you about him, he's on the tribal council , too—but it's a lot to take in, yanno? So, no, I guess I really _don't_ believe that the cold ones are real. It's just a story."

"Well, if that's the case, then, it wouldn't _really _hurt for you to tell me, would it?"

"Huh," Quil said, slowly. "Guess not, but you can't tell anyone—"

Kurt cut him off. "Who would I tell?" he asked with a derisive snort. "It's not as if I have many friends around here, if you haven't noticed."

"Okay, okay," Quil sighed. "But if I do this, _you_ have to go cliff diving with me."

At Kurt's askance look, he quickly continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, since I'll be breaking the treaty—and tribal _law_—by revealing tribal secrets to a pale face like you."

"Fine," Kurt bit out. "But not today. Tomorrow."

Quil shook his head. "Better make it closer to the weekend. Mom said there's a storm blowing in. The waves'll be crazy if she's right."

"It's _always _raining here," Kurt pointed out.

Once again, Quil shook his head. "Not like this. We can go to the beach and watch it as it comes up over the water—it'll be _wicked_—and you can bring some more of those hummie sandwiches."

Kurt, who had never been a fan of thunderstorms as a child, wasn't quite sure he approved of the idea, but he trusted Quil. If he said it was safe, then it was probably safe—more or less, anyway. In the end, he just nodded. "And it's _hummus_, Quil, not hummie."

Quil grinned. "Yeah, well, they're so yummy I've decided to call them hummies."

Kurt let out a put upon sigh. "You're completely ridiculous, you know that, right?"

Quil ignored him. "Now, this won't be as good as if my grandfather or Billy told you, but…" he trailed off.

"Hey," Kurt said. He reached over and gave Quil's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

Finally, Quil began to speak. He told Kurt first about the spirit warriors and how they had once protected the tribe from invasion before telling him about how the spirit warriors eventually evolved into wolf-men—men who shared the body of a wolf.

Kurt listened enraptured until Quil was finished. He felt a pang of jealousy that he would never have the sort of heritage or history that Quil had but quickly put that out of his mind.

Quil mistook Kurt's awed silence for something else and muttered, "It's a bunch of crap."

"Look, I'm sorry that I laughed before, about the vampire-thing. That wasn't very kind of me. This is your history, and you should be proud of it."

Quil looked somewhat mollified by that, but there was a troubled expression settling on his face. "It's weird, but ever since you told me about seeing those wolves, I think _I_'ve seen them a time or two—and I've definitely heard them at night, haven't you?"

A shiver went down Kurt's spine as he recalled the odd intelligence he had seen in the wolf's eyes. "What if the legends _are _true?" he asked Quil. "What if there are really wolf-men?"

"Werewolves," Quil corrected. "And they're not. They're just legends, myths. They're not true."

But he didn't seem convinced himself. He glanced out the window at the darkening sky. "We should go. I told Mom I would be back in time for dinner."

Quil acted strangely as they made their way back through the woods. He jumped at every little noise, his eyes searching the trees whenever he thought he heard something. He relaxed when they were finally out of the woods, but every so often, he would glance over his shoulder back into the darkness.

They parted in front of their houses after promising to meet the next day to go to the beach and watch the storm come in.

"And don't forget to bring more hummies!" Quil called before Kurt ducked into the house.

"Hummus," Kurt called back. "It's _hummus_."

Kurt entered the house to find the living room full of people. Before he could say a word, however, Millie swooped in and pulled him into a crushing huge. "Thank goodness you're safe! We've been worried sick."

"I was with Quil," he said, slightly taken aback by both the hug and the number of strangers in the room. "I told you we would be together."

"I know," Millie said. "But when you didn't answer your phone, we got worried."

Kurt frowned. His phone hadn't rung all day. He went to pull it out of his pocket only to find his pocket empty. "I must have forgotten to bring it. I'm sorry," he told his aunt sincerely.

She waved him off. "I suppose I did overreact just a bit. You and Quil are thick-as-thieves most days, and he's a good boy. Now, then," she turned to the group of people that seemed to be studying Kurt before going through and introducing them. Kurt's mind wandered until he heard a name he recognized.

"—Black. I'm not sure if you know, but he has a son about your age, Jacob."

Kurt's eyes settled onto the man sitting in the wheelchair. Billy Black, Jacob's father. They had precisely the same eyes, he decided after careful observation.

"We've met," Kurt said in a sharp voice but didn't offer anything more.

Billy Black did not seem surprised by that information. He simply said hello and stared fixedly up at Kurt. It was almost as if he was assessing Kurt though for the life of him, he could not guess why.

Kurt retreated to his bedroom as soon as he was able to do so. He expected to find his cell phone sitting on the bed, but when he got in the room, it was nowhere to be found.

"I must have left it in the tree house," he murmured to himself.

A shot of panic shot through him. He would have to go back first thing in the morning. The last pictures of his dad were on that phone, and he wasn't sure what he would do if it was lost.

He woke up early the next morning after sleeping fitfully. He dressed quickly and left the house, stopping only to write his aunt a quick note. He didn't want her to worry needlessly.

It was light outside but only just, and the sun itself was hidden behind a thick layer of grey clouds. Quil's mom was definitely right about the storm. The air outside was almost sticky with humidity. Though it was light outside the layer of clouds combined with the tree covering meant that there was very little light in the woods as Kurt carefully made his way to the tree house. Luckily it was fairly easy to find because although Kurt was now spending a ridiculous amount of time outside, he was still fairly new to everything.

He was nearly through the woods that led to tiny clearing where the tree house was when he heard a twig snap nearby. He spun around, his eyes struggling to see through the brush.

No one was there. Obviously he was losing his mind.

He turned back around only to let out a strangled scream when he found himself face-to-face with a half-naked Jacob Black.

Surprised, he scrambled away from him. It took him a moment to catch his breath, but when he had, he fixed a glare on the boy in front of him. "What were you trying to do? Scare me to death?"

Jacob didn't speak for a moment. Instead, he just stared at Kurt, his dark eyes drinking him in. When he spoke, a second later, it was not to answer Kurt's question, it was to ask a question of his own. "What are you doing in the woods alone? Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

Kurt bristled at Jacob's tone. His eyes narrowed into little more than slits. "That's none of your business, and for your information, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now, if you would excuse me…"

When Jacob didn't move, Kurt pushed his way around him and continued through the woods, irritation fueling his steps.

"I'll go with you," he said, falling easily into step next to him.

Once again, Kurt bristled. "That wasn't an offer!"

Seemingly nonplussed, Jacob just continued to walk beside him.

"You don't even know where I'm going."

"Sure I do. The tree house—_my _old tree house."

At that, Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide and his heartbeat beginning to accelerate. "You—_it was you_! You're the one who's been following me, aren't you?"

Before Jacob could answer, a wolf howled nearby.

"Shit!" Jacob cursed. His eyes flitted from Kurt to the direction of the woods where the howl had come from. "_Shit!_"

Kurt was about to demand answers when he noticed that Jacob was visibly shaking—shaking so much that his shape was almost blurring. Startled, he took a step back, tripping over something and landing on his bottom with a wet _thud_.

From his place on the ground, he watched as Jacob closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and Kurt could see the outline of every muscle in his tense arms. After a minute, the shaking slowed down until it was only his hands that continued to tremble.

The silence was broken by the howl of another wolf.

Jacob finally opened his eyes and looked bleakly at Kurt. "Go to the tree house, and don't come outside. I'll come back for you when it's safe."

Though there were a thousand questions running through his mind, something about the way Jacob looked and the tone of his voice had Kurt scrambling to his feet. After sharing one last look, Kurt turned away from Jacob and hurried through the woods.


	6. Chapter 6

This isn't quite as long as I'd hoped, but it felt right to end it here. Now, I feel like I should clarify something. The events will occur here as they've occurred in _New Moon_ with the exception that some will change because of the addition of Kurt-mostly because of the imprint. I won't be covering a lot of things, though, especially things involving Bella, because Kurt is not involved. Assume that the cliff-diving (Bella's that is) did happen this chapter. I do plan on her and Kurt meeting, but probably not until the next chapter. I wanted to go ahead and post this because I have 2 papers due by the 7th, so I can't guarantee another speedy update!

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

Chapter Six

By the time Kurt climbed into the tree house, his breathing and heartbeat had both returned to normal. He found his cell phone abandoned in the corner of the tree house where he had been sitting the night before. Clutching the phone as if it was his lifeline, Kurt sank back down onto the floor. It felt strange to be in the tree house alone, without Quil taking up all of the room and keeping away the chill that was bone-deep. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He used to sit like this, curled up underneath his mother's dressing table, after she passed away. Thinking about his mother led to thoughts of his father. He couldn't believe that a month ago his life had been _normal_.

And now it was…what?

He was so confused.

_Why_ had he listened to Jacob?

It wasn't like there was anything dangerous in the woods, right? Besides wild animals and except for the lone sighting of the wolves he'd experienced, he hadn't seen another animal in the woods at all.

So he didn't think there was anything dangerous out there, but Jacob had seemed so frightened. Not just frightened, but frightened for _Kurt_ which made even less sense. Jacob's fear was the main reason that Kurt had listened to him in the first place. As the howling of the wolves faded and then disappeared completely, and Kurt became calmer, he was left with only questions.

Why had Jacob been shaking? Something had been going on, that much he knew, but _what_?

He wasn't sure, but he did feel fairly certain that it was all connected with the wolves. He wasn't sure how he knew only that he did know.

Which brought Kurt's attention to his next question: why had Jacob been following him?

He didn't understand what was going on. His aunt had been acting decidedly weird last night, and he couldn't stop thinking about the way that Billy Black had stared at him nor the way the others had stared at him—stared at him as if they knew something he didn't know. That was the main reason he had escaped into his bedroom as soon as he was politely able to do so.

The minutes passed by slowly, and it didn't take long for Kurt to begin to feel antsy.

He wanted to talk to Quil—_needed _to talk to him. It was almost ridiculous how close they had become in the short amount of time they had known one another. Kurt felt closer to him than he had ever felt to his other friends—even Blaine. There was nothing romantic about it. It was almost brotherly. He couldn't describe it, but it just felt right. Kurt only felt any semblance of normalcy when he was with Quil, otherwise he felt cold, like he was made of ice, like he was _full_ of ice.

He dialed Quil's number half a dozen times only to stop himself before the call connected.

What would he say if he _did_ manage to call him? He wasn't sure. None of it made any sense.

He only knew that he really wanted Quil there with him. He felt sure that Quil could make sense of everything, and even if he couldn't Kurt wanted him there. Wanted to tell him everything he had been keeping—wanted to tell him about his dad and about Karofsky and Blaine.

He dialed Quil's number one last time, finally allowing the call to connect. It rang several times before a sleepy Quil answered.

"Quil," he breathed out.

"Kurt?" Quil's voice was slow and thick with sleep. "W-What time's it?" he asked around a yawn.

"I'm at the tree house," he replied instead, his voice hitching slightly. "I'm—can you come?"

There was a pause. When Quil spoke again, he sounded much more awake. "I'm on my way."

Kurt kept the phone pressed to his ear even after the click sounded indicating the call had ended. Knowing that Quil would be there soon made him feel much better.

He remained curled up until he heard footsteps on the ladder. A moment later, Quil appeared at the door. He looked rumpled and out of breath.

"You're okay," he said when he had caught his breath. "Jesus, Kurt, you scared the crap outta me. What happened?"

"I left my phone here last night. I…My dad….you know he died," Kurt closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. "I have pictures of him….and a voice mail saved…I had to come back and get it."

Quil kneeled down next to him. "Hey, it's okay."

Kurt nodded and blinked rapidly at the tears gathering in his eyes.

"So you came to get your phone. That can't be it. What else happened? You sounded freaked when you called me. Scared the crap out of me, you know."

Kurt took a deep breath and told him everything that had been happening. The heated look he had shared with Jacob in the diner, the conversation at the beach, the strange looks Billy and the others had given him the night before. Finally, he told him about the confrontation in the woods.

"Thanks for coming," Kurt said when he was finished. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

But Quil said nothing. He was quiet—too quiet—and he looked angry, angrier than Kurt had ever seen him look before.

"They're not going to take you, too," he said finally.

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Take me? Quil, what are you talking about?"

"Sam Uley's little _cult_. First it was Jared and Paul. Then Embry and finally Jacob. I'm not letting them take you, too. You're my best friend, Kurt. I can't lose you."

"No one is taking me anywhere," Kurt promised. He reached out to take hold of Quil's hand only to draw it back quickly. "You're burning up!"

"I—I don't feel good," he said suddenly, his voice frantic. "Something's wrong with me, Kurt—something's really wrong."

Kurt's heart clenched in his chest, and he nodded resolutely. "Let's go. I'm taking you to the hospital."

Quil managed to climb down the ladder by himself, but no sooner had his feet touched the ground did he begin to shake violently—like Jacob had before.

"Oh my God," Kurt breathed. "What's happening to you?"

Quil's eyes were wide and fearful when they met Kurt's, and his voice was high and plaintive. "_I don't know_," he wailed.

Kurt was frozen in spot as he watched Quil's shape begin to blur. It was just like before with Jacob only Quil's blurring didn't stop.

"Get back!" Quil cried.

Kurt didn't need any further instruction. Trembling in fear, he moved back several feet and pressed his body against the thick trunk of a tree just in time to watch as Quil shuddered and fell forward. He didn't hit the ground, though. Halfway there, he convulsed and then, with a loud ripping noise, exploded.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat because standing where Quil had been only a moment before was a large chocolate colored wolf.

It was then that everything clicked—the wolves with the strange intelligent eyes, the tribal legends about spirit warriors, _everything. _

They weren't wolves—they were _werewolves_.

"Quil?" his voice was tentative and tremulous. He was terrified, absolutely terrified, but Quil was his friend, his best friend, and he didn't think he would hurt him. Still, he didn't try to move any closer, though his hand reached out unbidden.

Quil was making the most heartbreaking noises—long woeful howls and tinny little yelps—but he didn't seem to be moving much. His eyes, the same eyes he had as a boy, seemed unable to focus. He looked from Kurt to the surrounding forest and then back again.

That was when Kurt heard the rustling in the woods. Quil seemed to know that someone was coming, too, because he started growling and inching closer to Kurt until he was standing in front of him with his back end towards him. Someone was coming this way, more than one someone if the volume of noise was any indication. Quil's body was tense, poised almost as if he was ready to attack whoever was quickly approaching them.

Kurt watched as not one but two wolves—one was large and black and the other was the russet-colored one that he'd seen before—emerged from the trees. The growls emanating from Quil became louder until he was snarling. The wolves paused, almost hesitant, for a moment before the russet-colored wolf went back into the trees. A second later someone else emerged from the trees, but it wasn't the wolf—it was Jacob Black.

The moment Quil locked eyes on Jacob he pounced. The black wolf, however, was much larger _and _faster. In no time at all, Quil was on the ground with the black wolf's paws on his throat. Quil's growls became pained, and his large body flailed beneath the other wolf.

"Stop!" Kurt cried out. "Can't you see you're hurting him?" He took a step forward only to find himself being pulled back by Jacob.

Kurt paused for a second—he hadn't even noticed Jacob moving—before trying to shake him off to no avail. Jacob's hold was like steel.

"He's okay," Jacob insisted when Kurt continued to struggle. "Sam's just trying to calm him down. It's _you_ I'm worried about."

Kurt felt the same irritation he had felt that morning when Jacob had told him it was dangerous in the woods. "Yes, well, I don't need you to worry about me. Quil's my friend. He would never hurt me."

An inexplicable look flitted across Jacob's face. "He wouldn't mean to, but he might."

Kurt said nothing. He just fixed his eyes on the two wolves in front of him. The black one was utterly silent. It seemed almost calm. It just stood there with its large paws on Quil's neck while Quil whined and flailed about.

"Come on; let's get you out of here. This will probably take a while. Quil's pretty stubborn."

Kurt glared up at Jacob. "I'm not leaving him out here alone."

Jacob sighed. "He's not alone. Sam'll look after him."

"Will I be able to see him? Whenever he does turn back?"

Jacob didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the black wolf, the two exchanging a meaningful look.

Kurt frowned, his eyes darting back to the wolf and Jacob.

"If I can—if it's safe—I'll bring him to see you."

Kurt wanted to insist on it—and question why Quil suddenly needed an escort—but he had a feeling that would get him nowhere.

"Hey," Jacob said, a strange tone in his voice. "Quill will be fine. I promise."

Reluctantly, Kurt looked away from the wolves and back at Jacob. The expression on his face was so earnest that Kurt allowed Jacob, whose grip on him had lessened slightly, to lead him through the woods. When they finally spilled out onto the street near his aunt's house, Kurt stopped walking. The street was deserted, and Kurt could see from where he was standing that even his aunt and Rebekah were gone.

"You're a werewolf—a spirit warrior," Kurt said, turning to face Jacob.

Jacob's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, you know about that?"

"Well," Kurt said, his tone derisive. "I'm not blind." Blind, no, but definitely surprised to discover that there was an entirely other _world_ that he hadn't even known existed until then.

"But you called us spirit warriors. How'd you know 'bout that?"

Kurt said nothing. He didn't want Quil to get in trouble for telling him the legends.

Almost as if he was reading his thoughts, Jacob reached out and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay if Quil told you the legends."

Kurt snatched his hand away from Jacob, a scowl on his face. He felt a momentary stab of regret as Jacob's face crumpled before straightening into something vaguely resembling a facsimile of a smile. He ignored the feeling of regret. "Why have you been following me?" he asked. "You have been, haven't you?"

Jacob sighed. "I—yeah. I was."

"Why?" Kurt asked once again, but this time there was no anger in his voice, only curiosity.

Jacob seemed torn. His gaze shifted away from Kurt and back towards the woods before falling on Kurt once again. "I can't tell you now—I have to get back—but I will tell you later, okay?"

"Back to Quil?" Kurt asked, his gaze following Jacob's.

Jacob nodded. "Yeah."

"And he's really going to be okay? He won't be a wolf forever, will he?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nah, he'll turn back into a human when he calms down enough. Sometimes it takes a while, but he should be fine, and like I said, I'll bring him to see you."

"But only if it's safe?" Kurt said, echoing Jacob's earlier words back to him.

"Yeah, only if it's safe."

A series of howls echoed through the woods causing Jacob to frown. "I have to go," he paused. "I get that you don't like being told what to do, but can you promise me to stay out of the woods until I come back? I'll tell you everything—whatever you want—I just…I need to know that you're safe."

"You'll explain everything later? About the wolves, about you following me?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah."

"And Quil is going to be fine?" he pressed.

"Quil is going to be fine. I promise."

Kurt wanted to argue—he _did —_but just like before, he found himself unable to say no. Instead, he just gave Jacob a little nod and left, walking the short distance between the woods to his aunt's house as quickly as he could.

He spent the rest of the morning attempting to keep busy. He took care of what little homework he hadn't already done before painstakingly cleaning up his room. He took a long shower and then meticulously went through his skincare regime. He had been slacking in that area lately, but he had plenty of time now. Millie had called halfway through the morning to tell Kurt that Rebekah's brother, Harry Clearwater, one of the many people Kurt had met the night before had had a heart attack, and they would probably be at the hospital for the rest of the day. Kurt felt a flash of guilt momentarily. He really knew very little about Rebekah. He'd never been rude to her, in fact, he was almost always failingly polite to her, but he never made any attempts to get to know her. He would have to change that.

When all of that was finished, he went into the kitchen and made a large batch of hummus. He wasn't sure if he would see Quil today, but he enjoyed cooking all the same. He had always been the primary chef. His dad could cook, but his meals had consisted largely of a slab of some sort of meat and potatoes. He cut up several cucumbers and made up far more hummus and cucumber sandwiches than he would ever eat just in case he was able to see Quil. If not, well, he was sure they wouldn't go to waste.

Finally, when there was absolutely nothing left for Kurt to do, he did the thing that he had been avoiding since the moment he first arrived in La Push: thinking about _before_. He didn't want to—he wasn't even sure he would be able to, not without breaking down, anyway, but hearing about Harry Clearwater having a heart attack brought everything back up. So instead of fighting it, which he was good at doing, he just gave in.

He thought about his dad, about how much he missed him, how much he loved him, about how he wasn't sure, some days, if he would ever be the same again. He thought about his friends. He _missed _them—it wasn't the soul crushing way he missed his dad, but he still missed them all the same.

He sat down at his laptop and pulled up his e-mail. He watched as message after message loaded—messages from Finn, Blaine, Mercedes, Rachel, and even messages from Puck along with nearly every glee club member. He did not read the messages, but he did open up a new one and typed one sentence in the message before sending it to everyone in his address book.

The message was simple:

_I miss you_.

He wanted to say more, but he wasn't sure what to say. He shut his computer down just in time to hear the front doorbell ring. Steeling himself, Kurt headed towards the living room to answer it. He opened the door to find a soaking wet and rather bedraggled looking Jacob standing on the door step. He was not alone. Behind him—looking a little drier than Jacob but not much—was Quil.


	7. Chapter 7

I am such an awful student! Writing fanfic instead of papers! But lucky for you guys because it means you get another update! I took some dialogue from Eclipse. I don't own that, but I'm guessing you know. Hopefully you won't find Kurt too OOC here. Or Jacob. Or anybody. I know it didn't take Quil long to phase back, but I'm going off the assumption that he's a natural like Jacob because he has it on both sides of his family like Jacob. Now, this really will be your last update until next week!

Happy Saturday!

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

Chapter Seven

Only the fact that Quil was wet stopped Kurt from launching himself at him. Instead, he stepped back so that the two boys could enter the house.

"Let me get you a towel," he said after closing the door behind them. The house, like all houses on the reservation, was small, so it didn't take long for him to walk to the bathroom and back. When he got back with the towels, they were talking in low tones.

"Thanks," Jacob said. He was staring at Kurt again in the same intense way he had this morning.

Kurt flushed under the heat of his gaze before turning his attention to Quil. He looked him over for any injury. When he didn't find any, he heaved a sigh of relief. "You're okay," he breathed.

Quil rolled his eyes. "'Course I'm okay. I mean, yeah, I was freaked out when I first phased—and so were you! You should have seen your face!—but after I calmed down a bit, it was okay. More than okay, actually." He grinned, looking more animated than he ever had.

"Hmm," Kurt said slowly, eyeing Jacob out of the side of his eyes. "And I suppose this was the reason that your friends abandoned you?"

Jacob grimaced. He gave Quil a sheepish look which Quil rolled his eyes at. It wasn't Quil that answered, though. It was Jacob.

"Yeah. It's a secret—no one that's not a part of the pack is supposed to know. And it's dangerous. You saw Quil. If you hadn't moved when he phased—if he had been closer…" he trailed off, closing his eyes in what appeared to be pain. He was shaking slightly.

Kurt peered curiously at him. "Safe—that's what you meant by safe." It wasn't a question—it was a statement.

Jacob nodded but did not open his eyes. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little strangled. "I just…if you had been hurt—if he had hurt you—I _can't_."

Quil's lips pulled into a small frown as the shaking continued. He put his hand on Jacob's shoulder. "Jacob, look, man, he's okay. Nothing happened."

Annoyed, Kurt looked from Quil to Jacob and then back to Quil. "_He_," he began archly, "is right here, you know. And _he _wants to know what's going on. Right. Now."

Jacob took one deep breath and then another. He shook his head several times. Slowly, the tremors began to lessen until he was completely still. Only then did he open his eyes.

"Yeah, okay," he said at last.

Quil's stomach growled loudly, then, causing Kurt to sigh and Jacob to laugh in spite of the situation.

"Come on," Kurt said, reaching out for Quil's large, warm hand. He pulled him towards the kitchen. "I suppose watching the storm come in is out, but I did make your sandwiches."

Quil let out a gusty sigh as he settled down into the chair he always used at the little table in the kitchen. Jacob sat down awkwardly across from him.

"Hummies," Quil crowed. "You've got to try these sandwiches, Jake. I swear they are awesome."

Kurt rolled his eyes at his best friend. "For the last time, it's _hummus_," he said, letting a little annoyance bleed into his voice, but he shot Quil an indulgent smile. Quil reminded him so much of Finn—minus the inappropriate crush, of course.

He set the container of sandwiches down on the table in between the boys and watched in amusement as Quil ate two sandwiches in quick succession. Jacob looked at the sandwiches as if they were made of radioactive waste for several seconds, his eyes flitting between the sandwiches and Quil, before shrugging and grabbing one. He ate the sandwich in only two bites, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Kurt watched for a few more minutes before breaking the silence. "Your increased appetites…is that a wolf thing?" he asked.

Mouth full, Quil nodded. "'he 'eat, too," he said in between chews, bits of hummus flying out.

Kurt scrunched his nose up at the display before he took to studying the two boys. They were both so _large_. It was strange. Quil almost seemed larger than he had been this morning. It wasn't just their height, though they both towered over him, not as easy feat as he stood around 6' himself. The way Quil moved was different, too. More… sinuous, maybe? More graceful definitely. The Quil he knew before—even the Quil he knew only yesterday—was awkward. He was built, yes, but he had moved as if he still hadn't grown into his bulk. This Quil moved fluidly. He wondered if Jacob had gone through the same changes after…what had they called it…_phasing_? He never knew Jacob before—he didn't know him _now_—but perhaps he had.

Jacob must have sensed Kurt watching him because he turned, allowing their eyes to meet. The way Jacob looked at him…it was so _intense_. Like Kurt was the only person in the world, like Kurt was the only person he could see.

Blushing once again, Kurt lowered his eyes to stare at the table. Between the three of them—well, two of them, really, because Kurt had only had _one_—they had devoured all of the sandwiches.

Kurt took a deep breath before finally looking up again. "I think," he said shakily. He took another deep breath. "I think it's time you explained what's going on."

"Okay," Jacob said after exchanging a look with Quil. "Okay. Well, Quil told you the legends—about how we descended from wolves, about how we're spirit warriors."

Kurt nodded. "Yes."

Jacob paused. He looked like he was steeling himself for something. His face was shadowed, his body tense. "There are other legends, too. About the men who share their bodies with wolves—the werewolves. About how they, ah, find their mates."

He paused, his eyes locking on Kurt's almost automatically. "Their soul mates," he clarified at his no doubt puzzled expression. "They call it imprinting."

"Oh," Kurt said, a little breathlessly. Jacob was staring at him again. It made him nervous, so he averted his eyes, staring fixedly at the scratched and worn surface of the table. "How does it—how do you know?"

He could see Jacob bite his lower lip from the corner of his eyes. "Well, the elders aren't exactly sure how it works, but… it's like…gravity moves. When you see them, suddenly it's not the earth holding you here anymore. They do. And nothing matters more than them. And you would do anything for them, be anything for them…"

Kurt raised his head, then, and looked at Jacob, his mind whirling a hundred miles a minute. He looked from Jacob to Quil and then back to Jacob.

"And you…imprinted on me." Once again, it was not a question. Without Jacob ever telling him, he knew. It was the only thing that explained everything else. "That day…in the diner. You _looked_ at me. And you've been following me."

Jacob nodded, so Kurt continued. "When I saw you in the woods this morning, you looked so frightened—frightened to find me there."

"Yeah," Jacob said, strangled. "The woods aren't safe."

"Because of the wolves?"

"Did Quil tell you why our ancestors turned into wolves? Why it all started?" Jacob asked instead of answering his question.

"He said you were protectors—that the spirit warrior—the wolf-men—had to protect the tribe from their enemies."

"Enemy," Jacob corrected. "We only have the one."

"Vampires," Kurt breathed out in a horrified tone. He had laughed at Quil the day before for believing in vampires, but it was something different to _know_ they were _real_.

Jacob nodded. "Yeah. We've been tracking one—a leech—for weeks. When I saw you in the woods, I just…" he trailed off again, closing his eyes.

Unbidden, he reached out and placed his hand on Jacob's arm. At his touch, Jacob relaxed. After a minute, he opened his eyes once more.

"Thanks."

Silence fell over the three. The only noise in the kitchen for several minutes was the rain pelting down on the rooftop.

Kurt struggled to make sense of everything. It was so much—almost too much—to find out that all the creatures he once thought of as mythological were real, to find out that he had a _soul mate_… He had always dreamed of having one, had thought foolishly that Blaine had been his. Blaine, who had always seemed to be perfect for him. Blaine, who liked the same music that Kurt did. Blaine, who could quote _Vogue_ as well as Kurt did.

"So what does it mean? This…imprinting?" he asked finally.

Jacob considered that for a minute. "The elders think…thought…that we imprint to breed stronger wolves…but obviously that can't be true. I think it means that we imprint to find our other half, the one who completes us."

"And for you, that's me." Again, not a question.

"Yeah," Jacob said.

"You said before that when you imprint, you would do anything for them, be anything for them."

Jacob nodded. "It doesn't have to be romantic. I'll be anything you want me to be. Friend, brother…lover," he blushed wildly after he said the last word.

"But you want it to be romantic," Kurt pointed out. "I've seen the way you look at me."

"Yeah," Jacob agreed. "But this isn't about me. It's about _you_. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."

Kurt lapsed back into silence. When he spoke again, his words were careful. "Are you…I mean, before _this_ did you like even boys?"

"Well, no, but that doesn't matter. I don't care that you're a boy. You could be a boy or a…" he struggled for a word. "It doesn't matter," he said again. "All I see is you."

"Oh."

Jacob's expression turned earnest. "I know it's a lot to take in. I don't expect you to… I don't expect anything. I just… I want to get to know you. Be your friend."

Kurt searched his face, looking for confirmation. If Jacob was satisfied with only being his friend…maybe that would be fine.

The idea of having a soul mate…he had always wanted one, someone to care for only him. He never thought he would have one, never thought it was possible, even though he'd dreamed about it.

But…

But…he wasn't sure he could love anyone—not anymore.

His heart was iced over, frozen solid, and he wasn't sure it could ever be thawed. Sometimes, when he was with Quil, when the chill had abated, he thought _maybe_, one day, he would be himself again. But he wasn't sure.

But if Jacob wanted friendship…if he just wanted to get to know him…Kurt felt certain he could do that much, at least. Even if he wasn't sure he could ever be anything else. They could be friends.

"Friends?" Kurt questioned.

Jacob nodded eagerly.

Kurt sucked in a shaky breath. He smiled though it was hesitant. "I do need more friends," he said finally. "Quil's my only friend in Forks. I don't know anyone else, really."

Jacob beamed, then, a radiant smile that seemed to brighten the entire room up. "That's great. I can introduce you to some other people. If you can get along with this bozo over there," he motioned at Quil, "then I bet you'll really get along with Embry. Oh! And Bella—she's my best friend—she goes to Forks High, too. I'll introduce you to her."

Quil, who hadn't spoken during the entire exchange, let out a chortle and muttered something that sounded remarkably like, "_Whipped._" When Kurt quirked a brow at him, he just shrugged and gave Jacob a significant look.

Jacob glowered at him, but his face smoothed over when he turned to look at Kurt. "Just ignore him, that's what I always do."

Kurt was just about to open his mouth to speak when he saw both Jacob and Quil whip their heads toward the window that faced the forest.

Jacob sighed and both boys pushed themselves to their feet.

"We should go," he said at last. He gave Kurt an expectant look when he didn't move.

"I'm sorry—what?"

"Millie and Becky won't be home for hours," he said as if it explained everything.

"And?"

Quil shot Jacob an exasperated look and grabbed Kurt by the hand, pulling him easily out of his chair. Jacob made a distressed noise at the back of his throat which caused Quil to roll his eyes. "Relax, Jake, geez. I'm not gonna hurt him, he's my best friend! Look, Kurt, it's like this. You shouldn't be alone. Not till we catch this leech."

Kurt's eyes widened in panic, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. "Are you telling me that there's a vampire in La Push _now_?"

Kurt had never enjoyed horror movies, but he had always been especially frightened of vampires—ever since he had stayed up late one night to watch some cheesy vampire movie with his dad. His mom had been livid, and he had had nightmares for days. The fear never went away. In fact, he had had nightmares for weeks when they had had to read _Dracula_ for English the previous fall. It was one thing to know that vampires were real, but they were saying that there was one _there_… it was like all of his nightmares come to life.

"_Shit_, Quil! Look at what you did," Jacob said, but his voice sounded odd, far away almost. Kurt was vaguely aware that someone was pushing him back into a chair.

It was only when he heard Jacob tell him to take it easy that he realized he was almost hyperventilating. He closed his eyes and struggled to control his breathing. It took several minutes but finally he felt his breathing return to normal. When he opened his eyes, Jacob looked panicked and Quil looked contrite.

"Sorry," he said. "I just… vampires." He shuddered. "I've always been afraid of them."

Jacob sighed. "As long as you stay indoors, and preferably not alone, you'll be fine. The leech is trying to get around us to Forks anyway. I would just feel better if…if I knew you were safe."

"It'll be fun," Quil said. "We can go over Jake's for a while, and then you can sleep over my house. I'm sure you're aunt'll feel better if you aren't alone. I know they'll be at the hospital for the rest of the night probably."

Kurt nodded. "Okay. Sure. I'll just grab some things from room, then."

"I'll go with you," Quil volunteered.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He didn't need an escort to his room, but he allowed it with only minimal fuss.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Quil said when they were alone.

"It's just…it's been a long day," Kurt said.

And it had. Not only had it been a long day, but his entire world view had changed in a matter of hours. He mechanically packed a change of clothes and his pajamas in his overnight bag. He threw his cell phone charger in the bag as well.

When he was finished, he waited while Quil rummaged through his DVD collection and grabbed a few. He lifted a brow when he saw the titles. "I didn't know you liked musicals, Quil. Weren't you just telling me the other day how awful they were?"

Quil shrugged. "Yeah, but you like them. Now come on before Jake comes to see what's taking us so long."

Quil didn't wait for him. He just grabbed Kurt's bag and left the room. Sighing, Kurt followed him.

Jacob was waiting anxiously for them in the entry hall. He seemed to relax the moment he set eyes on Kurt once again.

"You ready?" he asked.

Kurt hesitated slightly before nodding. "Yes," he said. "I'm ready."


	8. Chapter 8

So, here's the next chapter. It's nice and long for you guys who have been so patient the last semester. I hope you enjoy it. I was worried about the pacing, so please let me know if you think it's moving too slowly/too fast or what. I also want to remind you that the events of _New Moon _and _Eclipse _still happen, but since Kurt won't be directly involved in most of them, I won't be going into detail about them.

Have a wonderful weekend.

To Fix You

By _Koinaka_

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you  
—Coldplay, _Fix You_

Chapter Eight

It didn't take long for Kurt to drive the short distance from his aunt's house to Jacob's house. He pulled in behind an ancient looking red truck in front of the small red house.

"It's Bella's," Jacob said in explanation when he saw Kurt looking at the truck.

Kurt lifted a brow. "Does it actually _run_?" he asked.

"Not well," Jacob admitted. "I've done a bunch of work on it, though. Rebuilt the engine and everything."

"He and Bella rebuilt some motorcycles, too," Quil added helpfully. "Kurt probably knows as much about cars as you do."

"Really," Jacob said with an appreciative look. "Later I can show you my Rabbit. I built her from scratch. Maybe we can—"

Kurt cut him off, his voice sharper than he intended, but he couldn't think about any of this without thinking of his dad, and he definitely couldn't do _that_. "I don't work on cars—not anymore."

He ignored the look that passed between Quil and Jacob, grabbing his bag out of the backseat before anyone else could. They were walking up the driveway when he noticed the same slender girl that had been with Jacob at the beach before standing in the doorway.

Quil grabbed his arm before they reached the house. "Hey, I'm sorry…I know that…just—I'm sorry."

Kurt attempted to give Quil a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. "I know."

He followed Quil into the small house. It seemed to have the same layout as both Millie's house and Quil's though it looked more lived in and messy than either. Probably because it was only Jacob and his dad living there. Both Millie and Quil's mom were almost impossibly clean people. Kurt doubted there was a dust particle to be found in either house.

The front room of Jacob's house was very homey and warm. It held a large worn looking couch and a leather arm chair that seemed to be in the same state as the couch. Both the couch and the chair were angled towards a medium-sized television that was squished in the corner of the room next to a rack of VHS tapes and a few DVDs. It reminded Kurt of his living room back home. It had been the only room his dad refused to let him touch. He still cringed when he remembered the ragged couch his dad would never agree to part with. It was now sitting in storage. Kurt hadn't been able to part with it either.

Quil nudged him bringing him out of his thoughts. It was only then that he realized they were all staring at him.

"Kurt, this is Bella," Jacob repeated, an easy smile on his face. "Bells, this is Kurt, and I'm sure you remember Quil."

Bella's eyes widened comically as she took in Quil. "Whoa," she mumbled before shaking her head and turning to Kurt. "I think I've seen you around at school. You're a junior, right?"

Kurt didn't doubt that. Forks High didn't exactly have a large student body. Less than 400 people, probably, and that was if he was being generous. Of course, Dalton's student body had been small as well, but that was due to their exclusivity. McKinley, on the other hand, had a fairly large student body.

"Sophomore," Kurt corrected. "Technically, but some of my classes are junior level. The curriculum at my old school was fairly advanced."

"Kurt's really smart," Quil bragged. "If it wasn't for him, I would've failed my English test last week. _And _I managed to get a C on my Algebra test. He's like a miracle worker. Mom's ready to adopt him for the homework help alone."

"Well," Kurt said dryly. "Who would have thought that actually reading—and doing— the assignments would work wonders?"

Jacob guffawed, and even Bella cracked a small smile.

Quil, on the other hand, was unaffected. He just shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" he quipped, flopping down on the couch and pulling Kurt, who had been standing awkwardly in the doorway, down next to him.

Once they were sitting both Bella and Jacob moved to sit down as well, Bella perching on the edge of the armchair as if poised to move at a moment's notice and Jacob sprawling out in the floor with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

Between the radiator next to the couch and the heat emanating from both Quil and Jacob, Kurt was feeling warm for the first time all day.

No one spoke for several minutes. Bella tried to look everywhere but at another person while Quil's and Jacob's eyes were locked together almost as if they were having a conversation entirely without words. Kurt, however, was attempting to subtly observe Jacob. He had never noticed before, during their brief interactions, but Jacob was actually really attractive with his sharp cheek bones, square jaw, full lips, and dark eyes.

The silence was broken after a minute or so by Kurt's cell phone going off, indicating a new text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and deftly deleted the message, but not before he saw that it was from Blaine. Sighing, he turned his phone off.

"You okay?" Quil asked as Kurt tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"I'm fine," Kurt answered automatically.

Quil, like always, didn't seem to buy it. He gave Kurt a dubious look. "You're gonna have to talk to them eventually, y'know?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt said, his lips thinning and his eyes narrowing slightly.

Quil scoffed. "Your friends. From Lima. You know, the ones who text and call you almost every day? Those friends. Eventually, you'll have to talk to them."

He raised his hands in surrender when Kurt glowered at him. "Sorry, sorry," he said hastily before grabbing Kurt's bag from where it was sitting in the floor. "Let's watch a DVD, okay?"

Kurt relaxed slightly until he felt the weight of Jacob's eyes on him. He was careful not to return the gaze, but just knowing that he was looking at him—and the way he was probably looking at him—was overwhelming.

Quil ruffled through the DVDs in Kurt's bag before grabbing one and tossing it to Jacob. "Put this in, Jake, will you?"

Jacob caught the DVD easily. He frowned as he looked at the case. "_West Side Story_?" he asked skeptically. Kurt didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over to Bella who had gone pale at the title of the DVD.

Quil shrugged. "Kurt loves musicals," he said as if that explained everything. "And this one is way better than some of them. Trust me."

"Says the boy who cried during _Les Miserables,_" Kurt reminded him earning a scowl from his friend.

"I told you—I had something in my eye."

"Yes," Kurt drawled. "Tears."

Jacob chortled as he put the DVD on. Then he stood up, stretching as he did so. Kurt's eyes were drawn to the russet colored skin that was exposed when his t-shirt rode up. Jacob caught him staring and grinned, one of his eyebrows raised. Kurt fought off a blush and turned back to the television.

"I'm going to go check in with Sam. See how things are going," Jacob told Quil, leaning over so that his lips were close to Quil's ear, his voice so low Kurt could scarcely hear the words.

He straightened up then and turned to Bella who was looking rather wan and drawn with one of her arms wrapped around her middle. She was making an effort to look anywhere but at the television.

"You okay, Bells?" he asked worriedly, the skin in the middle of his forehead puckering slightly as he frowned.

"Yeah," she said, a little breathlessly as though she had been running. "I'm good. Don't worry about me. Go. Check with Sam."

Jacob hesitated but after studying Bella's face for a minute, he left.

After Jacob left, Kurt relaxed slightly. He was unnerved by the other boy's presence, but not only was he unnerved by the boy's presence, he was unnerved with how aware he seemed to be of Jacob, aware in a way he had never been before. Kurt pushed the thoughts of Jacob out of his head and, leaning against Quil's warm shoulder, allowed himself to get lost in the fight between the Jets and the Sharks.

Between the heat in the small room and the rain falling outside, however, it didn't take long for Kurt's eyes to become heavy. He hadn't slept well the night before, and he had gone through more in one morning than he had in weeks. He was fast asleep before he was even able to hear Tony and Maria serenade one another with "Tonight."

He slept for a long time. At one point he was vaguely aware of people talking over him, and then at another point, the motion of being moved, but still he slept.

When he finally did wake up, he was in an unfamiliar room _and _in an unfamiliar bed. Startled, he shot straight up only to nearly fell out of the bed. He was caught in the nick of time by a pair of very warm hands.

"Careful there," a husky voice told him as the warm hands righted him.

He squinted through the dark and found himself face-to-face with Jacob.

"What time is it?" he asked looking out the small window above the bed at the dark sky.

His eyes widened when Jacob said, "After midnight."

"W—what? Why didn't Quil wake me up? I thought I was supposed to go over there."

"He didn't want to wake you up," Jacob said after reaching over and turning on the overhead light. "He's with Sam learning how to run patrol anyway."

"Hmm," Kurt said. He took in the room he was now in. It didn't take long to realize this must be Jacob's room. "Is there any particular reason why I'm in your bed?"

Jacob's russet-skin flushed. "Oh! Well, my dad came home and brought Charlie—that's Bella's dad—with him. I didn't want them to wake you up, so I just moved you in here," he paused before adding, "Sorry."

Kurt's eyes suddenly narrowed. "You weren't watching me sleep, were you?"

Jacob shook his head. "I wouldn't do that!" he said, his eyes wide and his expression sincere. "I just heard you moving around, so I came to check on you. I didn't want you to wake up and freak out. You know, 'cause you didn't know where you were."

Kurt eyed him for a moment before nodding. "Thank you."

"Are you hungry? We just ordered pizza for dinner, but there's plenty left. Quil said that you were vegetarian, so we got one of them half veggie."

"That would be good, thank you," he hesitated before asking. "The bathroom?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure. It's right across the hall, can't miss it. Your, um, bag's in front of the bed. You know, if you wanted to change." Jacob backed out of the room. "I'll just…I'll be in the kitchen."

While he was wondering what to make of the situation, Kurt took his bag into the bathroom. His clothes were wrinkled beyond help, so he didn't worry with folding them just stuffed them into his bag and pulled on his pajamas. He hadn't brought all of his skin care items, but he did wipe his face off with a warm washcloth. He blinked when he noticed the color in his cheeks. He had blushed more since meeting Jacob that he had in years. He placed his bag back in the small bedroom before walking down the short hallway and into the kitchen.

"Have you heard from my aunt?" he asked Jacob, sitting down in one of the battered mismatched chairs.

Jacob's look turned somber as he sat down a plate with a slice of pizza down in front of Kurt and then sat in the seat across from him. "Yeah," he said finally. "Harry passed away this afternoon, so they'll be gone all night probably. You know, helping Sue, his wife."

Kurt wasn't sure what to say. The entire situation was just a little too close to home for him. He stared down at the pizza. He let out a shaky breath before taking first one bite and then another. Finally, after a minute or so had passed in an uncomfortable silence, Kurt looked back up. As he expected, Jacob's eyes were on him.

"There are other legends, besides those about the werewolves, yes?" he asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

Jacob nodded. "Yeah. Loads."

Kurt's heartbeat accelerated. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Will you tell me…about the cold ones?"

"I thought Quil told you the legends," Jacob said with a frown.

Kurt quickly shook his head. "I only wanted to know about the wolves."

That seemed to interest Jacob. "Why?" he asked.

"I saw two wolves my first night in La Push…only I didn't think they _were_ wolves because they were really big. When I asked Millie, she said I must have imagined them, but I couldn't stop thinking about them."

Jacob looked hesitant. "So, you want to know about the cold ones?"

"I—no. I don't want to know, but I think I should know. Otherwise, I'll just imagine the worst."

"We call them the cold ones, but other people—you pale-faces—call them vampires. Not much to say about them. They're a bunch of blood sucking leeches, and if it wasn't for them, none of this would even be happening right now!" Jacob took a deep breath, and Kurt noticed that his hands were beginning to tremble slightly. He closed his eyes and kept taking deep breaths until all the trembling stopped.

"And they're real?"

"Oh, yeah. Killed one just last week. Hopefully we'll get the other soon."

"Are they…." Kurt paused. "Are the myths true?"

Jacob's brow furrowed. "What myths?

"You know, can't go into the sunlight, burned by crosses and garlic, killed by a stake, basically the whole Buffy thing?"

Jacob laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. It was bitter and there was a hard edge that made Kurt nervous. When Jacob spoke again, his tone was completely flat. "Hollywood doesn't get much right. They can go out in the sun, as long as no one else can see 'em, and the only thing that can kill a vampire besides another vampire is a werewolf. They're the only reason why we exist—because they do."

"Oh," Kurt said and turned his attention back to his mangled pizza. He didn't know Jacob, not really, but for some reason his obvious unhappiness seemed to chaff against Kurt. He didn't like it, and added with everything else that was going on, Kurt felt like he was holding himself together by a string.

Jacob's voice was full of concern when he asked, "Are you okay?"

Mechanically, Kurt nodded, but when he opened up his mouth to speak something completely unexpected came out because even though he was definitely _not _okay, he hadn't had any intention of saying that, so he was quite surprised when his traitorous voice said, "Actually, no, I'm not."

Jacob's expression didn't change. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, if you don't want to, but if you did, you know, want to tell me, I'd listen."

Kurt was an immensely private person. Partly because he didn't enjoy confiding to other people, and partly because he had never really had anyone who cared enough to really listen before. He had friends, yes, and they would listen, but they wouldn't really _listen_—not the way he needed them to—and even if they did listen, they wouldn't _understand_. How could they when they had never gone through some of the things he had? All of the bullying, all of the isolation he felt, none of his friends at McKinley would have understood. They had been bullied, but not to the same degree that he had. They had been targeted because they were in glee club. Kurt had been targeted because of who he was—something that was intrinsic, something he couldn't change. That was why he had confided in Blaine though he hadn't even _known _him at the time—Blaine understood. He _knew _what Kurt had been going through. He had gone through the same things.

But this was different. Jacob didn't know him, didn't know anything about him or the things he had gone through—the things he was still going through. He said they were soul-mates, and maybe they were, but they were strangers. So why should he confide in him—confide in him when he had avoided talking about these things to even Quil?

He sighed, and when he began to speak, the words fell out of his mouth without his permission. "My dad died a month ago, and now my life is just a mess. I had to leave my friends, and everything I knew to live with an aunt I never knew I had. And even though I miss my friends, I can't call them because I can't stand to listen to them offer me platitudes and tell me how God has some great big plan for my life or that my dad's in a better place. Mostly, I know that talking to them would make me think of my dad, and I _really _can't do that.

"I feel cold all the time, like I've been covered in ice, and the only time I feel half-way normal is when I'm with Quil, and even then I don't feel like myself. And now I've discovered that there's this entirely other world out there that I never even knew existed where pretty much the _only _thing that I've ever really been afraid of is not only real but is also parading around near where I live. So, no, Jacob, I'm not okay."

When he was finished, his breath came out in a whoosh. He was completely and utterly mortified. "I can't believe I just told you all of that," he said, covering his face with his hands. "I mean, I don't even _know _you, so why is it that I just told you everything that I've been holding in for weeks?"

Before he could do anything more to embarrass himself, he practically threw himself out of the chair and fled the kitchen, the bedroom door—_Jacob's _bedroom door—slamming shut behind him.

Kurt woke up the next morning to the sound of voices talking in the next room. He did not move right away, instead he waited and listened to the conversation.

"So you just left her there with the leech?" an incredulous—an incredulous and unfamiliar—voice said.

It was Jacob that spoke next, Jacob sounding tired and resigned. "Yeah. What else was I supposed to do? I wanted to stay, but we're not supposed to be on their land, remember?"

There was a pause. "Oh, yeah, the treaty. I forgot." Whoever it was laughed then. "Plus, you were probably in too big a hurry to get back home—to him."

"Be a little louder, why don'tcha, idiot? He's still sleeping!"

"Sure, sure, Jake," the other boy said, laughing.

"Out! Get out of my house and off of my land. Aren't you supposed to be on duty anyway?"

Kurt could hear the sound of scuffling before he heard a door open. "Jeez, Jake, chill, I'm going, I'm going. Besides, it's not like Sam'll even notice. He's got his hands full with Leah and Seth, you know, and—"

Whatever the other boy was going to say was cut off when a door shut abruptly.

Kurt waited until he heard the television cut on before finally getting out of bed and leaving the bedroom. He entered the room to find Jacob sitting on the couch absently watching cartoons while he shoveled cereal from a heaping bowl into his mouth.

"Morning," Jacob said to him after swallowing a large spoonful of cereal.

"Hello," Kurt replied cautiously. He was still mortified by the way he had acted the night before, and he hoped that Jacob wouldn't mention it. He wasn't sure what he would do if he did. Not only had he told Jacob some very personal things—things he hadn't even told Quil!—he had then yelled at him and stormed out of the room.

Thankfully, Jacob did not mention the night before at all. Instead he asked Kurt, "You hungry?"

"A little," Kurt admitted. He had hardly eaten anything the day before which Jacob more than likely already knew.

"There's some cereal on top of the fridge. I know you're a bit of a health nut, but there should be some of my dad's cereal up there, too. He's a diabetic, so he has to be careful about what he eats. There's still left over pizza, too, if you don't want cereal. I'm not that good of a cook, but I could make you some eggs, maybe, if you wanted those instead," Jacob said, frowning.

"Cereal is fine, thank you," Kurt told him before going into the kitchen.

Like Jacob said, there was a plethora of cereal on top of the refrigerator. It took him a minute to find a lone box of shredded wheat cereal that was pushed behind boxes of Fruity Pebbles, Cap'n Crunch,Apple Jacks, and two boxes of Cocoa Puffs.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised, considering the amount of cereal there was, to open up the refrigerator and find not one or two but three gallons of whole milk

"There should be some skim milk in there, too," Jacob said, coming up behind him. "That's the kind with the pink lid, right? I'm pretty sure that's the kind my dad uses."

There was, in fact, a small pint of skim milk shoved in the corner of the refrigerator behind two gallons of orange juice.

Halfway through eating his bowl of cereal, the front door opened and two men came into the house. One of the men was Billy, Jacob's father, and the other man was someone Kurt didn't recognize. Both men looked somber and as if they hadn't slept in days.

"Hey dad, Charlie," Jacob said when he saw them.

"Jacob," Billy said, after a moment's hesitation he added, "Kurt."

Billy Black unnerved Kurt more than his son did. There was something about the older man's ancient eyes that made Kurt feel wide open, as if everything about who he was was bared to him.

The other man, Charlie, apparently, didn't even seem to notice Kurt. "I should go," he said after saying hello to Jacob. "Alice Cullen is there with Bella, but I still don't like leaving her alone all day. I'm just going to check on Sue one more time before I head back to Forks. I'll be back in the morning."

Billy's lips pursed at the mention of Alice Cullen, but he didn't speak about it until Charlie was safely away from the house. Even then, his didn't say much. "I assume that Sam has been informed that the Cullens have returned."

Kurt watched as Jacob's expression turned wary. "Yeah, Dad, he knows."

Billy gave Jacob a searching look before wheeling into the kitchen where Kurt was still sitting at the table. "Millie wants you to stick around over here. Her and Rebekah will be real busy for the next couple of days helping Sue out, and she doesn't want you to be alone," he told Kurt.

Kurt's eyes flitted over to where Jacob was standing with his arms crossed over his chest before nodding. "I'll need to go back home and get a few things."

"Sure, sure," Jacob said. "We can go whenever you're ready."

Kurt opened his mouth to tell Jacob that he didn't need an escort—because he definitely did _not—_but something about the way he looked, a mixture of anxious, tense, and angry, stopped him. Instead, he just nodded.

He went back to Jacob's room to get dressed after finishing his cereal. When he came back out, Jacob and Billy were having a whispered conversation. The moment they saw him they both fell silent.

The drive back to Millie's was tense, and it was only when Kurt pulled into the driveway that he made the connection as to why.

He had heard the boy earlier say that he left her—and Kurt was fairly certain that the _her_ in question was Bella—with the leech. Then the man, Charlie, said that Alice Cullen was with Bella. The same Alice Cullen that Jacob had told Sam, who was obviously in charge of something if the way he had subdued Quil the day before was any indication, had returned.

Jacob's words the night before echoed through his head. "_They're the only reason we exist—because they do_."

And he had called them leeches.

Leeches, bloodsuckers, cold ones, _vampires_—Cullens.

The Cullens—whoever they were—were vampires.

"_Oh!_" he breathed out, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. "Oh," he said again. "Alice Cullen is a vampire."

Jacob looked a little surprised, but he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she is."

"I thought—the legends…aren't the werewolves supposed to be protectors? You said that werewolves can kill vampires, that you _had _killed vampires. But not this one, not Alice Cullen?"

The tense, angry look was back. Jacob's lips were pressed into a tight line. When he answered Kurt, it was through his teeth. "Not the Cullens," he agreed though it was reluctant and begrudgingly that he did so. "We have a treaty with them."

"A treaty," Kurt said. "A treaty with _vampires_?"

"Yeah, I know. Stupid, huh? It was my great grandfather that created it. I'm just stuck going along with it."

"But _why_?"

"Well, supposedly, they're different. They don't kill humans. They eat animals. Drink, whatever. Bella says they call themselves vegetarians. Still…a blood-sucker is a blood-sucker. To me, anyway."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Bella _knows_ they're vampires?"

Jacob snorted. "Oh yeah. She knows—"

Kurt cut Jacob off with a wave of his hand. He took one deep breath and then another. How was it possible that in the duration of a single day everything he had ever known had changed? How was it possible that he had been thrust into a world filled with supernatural beings?

It was all a little too much. He needed some time to think, to process all of this, to just do something normal.

But what could you do when you realize that all of the myths are real?

"I should cook something," he said at last. "For Sue and her family."

He couldn't deal with all of this now. But cooking...that he could deal with.

Jacob was silent, so Kurt continued. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't stop. "Unless that's not done. I'm still not sure about Quileute traditions. I've done some research on the internet since I moved here, but I don't think I've read anything about that."

Jacob stopped him by placing a very warm hand on his arm. Kurt turned to look at him and found that his face wasn't quite as tense anymore. In fact, Jacob was even smiling a little. "Hey, don't worry about that. You've seen how much we eat. Food is _always _welcome. I know that they will appreciate it. I hadn't even thought of that. And if you have any questions, you know, about Quileute stuff, you can ask me. Or my dad."

When they finally did go inside the house, Kurt was feeling a little better, mostly because his mind was busy thinking of what to make. He needed something he could make a large quantity of, something that normal people would eat. Quil and Jacob had liked the hummus, but he thought that was probably the exception and not the norm, so he needed to find something that wasn't too eccentric. Casseroles were probably the way to go.

Jacob followed him as he moved through the house to Kurt's bedroom after first peering into the refrigerator and cabinets to see what ingredients they actually had. Both Rebekah and Millie cooked mostly what Kurt would classify as traditional home-style cooking. Like his dad, they enjoyed stuff like meat loaf and mashed potatoes or steak and baked potatoes. And fish—lots and _lots _of fish. Since Kurt had moved in, they were always considerate enough to make sure they had things that he would like as well, but for the most part, they ate much heartier food than he enjoyed.

"You can come in, if you want," he told Jacob as he sat down in his desk chair and turned his laptop on. "It won't take long. I just want to look up a recipe or two."

Jacob, who had been standing in the door way looking decidedly uncomfortable, startled at the sound of Kurt's voice.

"This is your room?" he asked, his eyes flitting around at Kurt's vanity, his bed, and finally at his entertainment center that contained his television as well as his DVD and CD collection. The majority of his music was now on iTunes, but he still had a lot of CDs from before.

"You have a lot of stuff."

Kurt nodded absently as he scrolled through casserole recipe after casserole recipe. "I suppose. We had to put most of it in storage though because there not much room here."

Silence lapsed in the room.

"No allergies I should know about?" Kurt asked after a couple of minutes had passed.

"Uh...not that I know of."

"Good." That would make things easier at least. "You can turn on the television if you want. The remote is probably on the nightstand or on the floor near it, knowing Quil."

He jotted down a list of the ingredients he would need for the recipes he had found while he was waiting for the recipes to print. When he was finished, he turned back to Jacob. He was sitting on the edge of Kurt's bed looking at the digital photo frame on Kurt's nightstand as it shifted from picture to picture. "You said before that your dad was diabetic. Does he have any other dietary restrictions? Low-sodium or anything?"

"Huh?" Jacob asked, finally peeling his eyes away from the digital photo frame that was currently on a picture of Kurt and Blaine in their Dalton uniform.

"Your dad. Does he have any dietary restrictions besides his diabetes?"

"Oh. Nah. Just, yanno, that."

"Do we have to go back to your house right away?" Kurt asked as he moved to his closet to gather clothes for the next day.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go to the funeral—if he could go, actually—but he thought that he ought to go. Millie had done a lot for him in the short time they had known one another, and so had Rebekah. He just had to keep telling himself that it wasn't the same as before.

"I guess not. Why?"

"Well," Kurt said, pulling out an outfit that he thought would be appropriate for a funeral and laying it across the bed. "It would just be easier to cook over here, so I don't have to take everything I need over there."

Before Jacob could respond, they heard Quil's voice calling down the hallway. "Hey, you guys back there?"

"In my," Kurt started to call back but before he was able to finish his sentence Quil appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Jake, Sam's waiting for you."

Jacob frowned, his gaze moving from Quil to Kurt.

Quil saw the movement and rolled his eyes. "I'm on Kurt duty for now. You can go."

Kurt scowled at the both of them. "I don't _need _a babysitter," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Sure, sure," Quil said, flopping down in the chair on Kurt's desk and pulling the laptop towards him.

Jacob didn't look pleased, but he finally sighed and left after gaining assurances from both Kurt and Quil that they would only leave the house to go to the store.

"Don't be so hard on him," Quil said as they pushed a shopping cart through Thriftway.

Kurt, who was staring intently at his shopping list, looked up at his friend, confused.

"Jacob," Quil clarified. "Don't be hard on him. I've seen in his head how he feels about you. The thought of you being in danger terrifies him."

"I'll keep that in mind, but he can't expect me to never be alone or to follow me around all the time."

It was one thing for him to stay over Jacob's house because his aunt had suggested it—and he wasn't sure that was the entire story—but it was another to have a guarded escort whenever he was at home.

Quil sighed and grabbed a box of cookies off the shelf as they passed. "I know, I know, but until," he paused and lowered his voice, "until we catch the…you know…you can't expect him not to worry. This imprinting thing is hard to describe. I know he told you about it, but I've seen it in his head. It's like…every single thought he has, everything he _is _revolves around you. It's not romantic or anything, not right now anyway, he just… he wants you to be happy, for you to be safe, and everything he does, everything he says, is all geared towards that."

"What? You saw into his mind? Are you telepathic now, too?"

Quil shrugged. "Sometimes. It's a wolf thing."

Kurt didn't know what to say. The idea that Jacob's entire world revolved around him was a little overwhelming. "But he doesn't even _know_ me."

"Doesn't matter," Quil told him matter-of-factly. "Look…just give him a chance. Get to know him. Jake's been my best friend since we were in diapers. He's great. I mean, I know I said some pretty bad things before, but that was because I thought he'd ditched me to hang out with the 'hall monitors gone bad' like he used to call them."

Kurt sighed. "I am giving him a chance, Quil. I just…I don't like to be told what to do."

"I'll talk to him, okay? Get him to back off a little, so long as you promise to actually give him a chance."

"I said I would already, didn't I?" Kurt snapped before sighing once more. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. Come on. We've got a lot of cooking to do."

"_We_?" Quil asked, bemused.

"I suppose not. _Me_, then. _You, _on the other hand will stay out of the kitchen."

"Sure, sure," Quil agreed easily. "I'll stay out, if you make me more hummies."

Kurt made a disgusted noise but didn't even bother correcting him again. "Aren't you tired of them yet? If you eat anymore hummus, you're going to turn into a chickpea."

At Quil's pout, Kurt scowled. "You're shameful. Fine, I'll make some to take along to Sue's, but we'll need more chickpeas. I'm not sure anyone besides you will even like them, but if they do, you'll just have to share."

Knowing not to press his luck any further, Quil didn't protest when Kurt sent him off to find the ingredients.

When they got back to the house, with enough groceries to feed a small army, Kurt was surprised to find Millie actually at the house. She looked harried and tired and definitely surprised to see him.

"I thought you were at Billy's?" she asked. "And what's all this?" She pointed to the grocery bags, all of which Quil was carrying.

Kurt paused, suddenly hesitant, before speaking. "I thought I would make something to take to Sue's house."

Millie's eyes widened and she pulled Kurt into a tight hug. When she stepped away, her eyes looked suspiciously bright. "You remind me so much of your mother, Kurt."

She turned to speak to Quil then. "When you guys are finished, take everything to Sam and Emily's. Most of the younger kids are meeting there. It's just too crowded at Sue's, and she's honestly not in any shape for a lot of loud company. I left Becky with her long enough for me to run back and grab my contact solution, but I don't want to leave them alone for too long."

"Are you sure we shouldn't bring something to her house for her to eat?"

"You're sweet," she told him, patting his cheek. "She's got plenty. Just take it to Sam and Emily's. I'm sure Emily would appreciate it. Those boys practically eat her out of house and home."

With that, Millie left.

"Sam is the Alpha," Quil said at Kurt's questioning look. "Emily's his fiancée. I met her yesterday. She's really great."

The two boys spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in the kitchen. Kurt made the hummus for Quil's sandwiches before making the four casseroles to take over to Sam and Emily's and another to take over to Jacob's while Quil sat at the kitchen table, playing around on Kurt's laptop and chattering nonstop. He told Kurt all about being a wolf.

"It's awesome," he crowed. "And you should see how fast we can run."

"Aren't you afraid of," he hesitated before saying the last word, "vampires?"

Quil scoffed. "No _way_. I've seen in Sam's head how easy it is to kill one. They don't stand a chance against us." His expression softened when he saw Kurt's anxiety. "Don't be scared. Nothing's going to happen, okay? We're made for this."

Kurt nodded, but he was still doubtful. He liked the idea of Quil going after vampires about as much as he liked the idea of vampires in general which was to say not at all.

It took them two separate trips to carry all of the food and Kurt's things out to the Navigator. Quil had complained and gripped because he wanted to carry them by himself all at once, but Kurt insisted on them being careful in case something happened. Finally, however, they were back in the Navigator headed towards Sam's house.

Like Jacob's house before, it didn't take long to get to Sam's.

"What's wrong?" Quil asked him when he hesitated before climbing out.

"Nothing," Kurt said quickly, his mind on the fact that both Quil's grandfather and Jacob's dad didn't seem to particularly like him even though he wasn't sure why.

"Cool. Come on. We'll just take this stuff in to Emily and go back to Jake's. We can watch a movie or something till Jake comes back."

Quil paused before they made it to the front door. When he looked at Kurt, his face was troubled. "Don't stare at Emily, okay?"

Even though he didn't know why, Kurt agreed at once. "I won't."

Once he met Emily, however, tt was obvious what Quil had meant. Along one side of Emily's face were three deep red lines that covered the length of her face and disappeared beneath her clothing and then continued along her arm and hand. "What do you have there, Quil?" she asked, stepping aside so that Quil and then Kurt could enter the house.

"Kurt wanted to make something for Sue, but they said to bring everything over here."

"Oh!" she said, surprised, before turning to Kurt. "That's great! Thanks! I know the boys'll appreciate it. You can just set them on the table."

They made quick work of bringing everything inside the house, telling Emily as they did what each individual casserole.

"I hope these are okay," Kurt said. "I wasn't sure what to make, but I wanted to bring something."

Emily gave him a bright, warm smile that set him at ease at once. She placed her not ruined hand on his arm. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Really. Don't worry about it; trust me. I've yet to find something they _won't _eat."

They stayed until the door open and a tall—taller than Jacob, even—man walked in.

"Hey Sam," Quil greeted him.

The man, Sam, nodded at Quil before looking at Kurt. Unlike Billy or even Quil's grandfather, though, the look wasn't unfriendly, only curious. "You must be Kurt," he said after a minute.

"I am."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you," Sam said. He turned to look at Quil. "Jacob is probably at his house by now. I'll see the both of you in the morning.

Quil muttered something beneath his breath and then chortled. "Yeah, yeah. I got it. Come on, Kurt."

Jacob was, in fact, waiting for them when they got back to his house. Billy, however, was noticeably absent.

"He's over at Sue's," Jacob said when he noticed Kurt looking around.

Kurt relaxed but only infinitesimally. He was a little nervous about being around Jacob after what Quil had told him.

It turned out his nerves were for nothing. After eating the casserole Kurt had brought over, the three boys settled into the living room to watch a DVD. One DVD turned into two, and before Kurt knew it, he was going into the bedroom that used to be Jacob's older sisters to sleep, and Quil was heading back to his house.

"You'll be fine," he said before leaving Kurt in the bedroom. "He's not gonna bite you or anything, and I'll be back in the morning. You're going to the funeral, right?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about _that_." And he wasn't, really. "And yes, I'm going. Obviously," he said, nodding towards the outfit that was hanging on the front of the closet door.

The truth was, honestly, that Kurt was very aware of the fact that he was alone in the house with Jacob. He showered and did his skin regime standing in Jacob's bathroom while he listened to Jacob move around in the house. He thought about maybe going in there and talking to him, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. Especially after what Quil had told him that afternoon.

"_Every single thought he has, everything he is revolves around you_."

So instead he just crawled into the bed and tried hard not to think of what lay in store for him tomorrow—Harry Clearwater's funeral. He didn't know the man, had only met him briefly several days before his death, but he knew that it would still be a difficult day for him.

It was strange to think that only a month ago he had been burying his father.

Just the thought took his breath away.

He was always so careful not to think about his dad, but sometimes not thinking about his dad hurt more than thinking about him. And sometimes—like at that very moment—he missed his dad so much he ached, missed his obnoxious laughter, missed the way he always drank milk straight out of the container, missed how oblivious he always was to the difference between organic and non-organic foods, missed the way he would spray beer or soft drink out of his nose when he tried to drink and laugh at the same time, missed how he had always been there for him, even when Kurt wasn't the easiest person to be around.

It almost didn't seem real to him some days that he would never see him again.

He wasn't sure when the tears began, but it had been so long since he had cried, been so long since he had allowed the memories to wash over him, that he didn't even bother try to stop them. He just let them come and roll down his face.

Once or twice he heard the shuffling of feet outside of the bedroom door, but they never knocked on the door or anything else.

It was late when he finally fell asleep, his tears still wet on his face, but for the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of relief.


End file.
